Faith and Desire
by dominicgrim
Summary: A chantry paladin and blinded sister of the Faith travel across Thedas. Their mission defeat monsters both supernatural and human. But can they resist the temptation of power, and desires of their own hearts. Rated Teen for now, maybe will go up later. I do not own Dragon Age.
1. The Blind Sister

A/N: A little tale of two OC's I had rattling around in my head, if you like them, shoot me a review and I will do a larger story later.

 **Faith and Desire**

 **Chapter 1: The Blind Sister**

It was a quiet night in the tiny village.

The trees were all but silent, the last of the villagers had returned to their homes. The only sound one might pick out was the howling of a distant dog, that and the slight creaking of the three hanged men swinging in the small square. The moon was full its light making the scene almost as light as day.

A hunter's moon.

Those men, they had been only the first to die, with luck only one more death would be called upon tonight, a death that would finally free the people here of a great evil.

Death was not uncommon here, but this was the first time that anyone of official note had faced such a fate. The three men, once Templars of the chantry had been executed for both dereliction of their duties and giving aid to an evil that had haunted this place for far too long.

Dee sat by the small fire in her room, enjoying the warmth on her face. She reached next to her feeling around for her water goblet. Despite the lateness of the hour, she could still hear voices down below, town folk no doubt, debating what they had seen, what Reaper had done to the three Templars yesterday.

 _Did the people approve_ , she could not say. If she had asked they would have responded in the positive, whether they truly believed it or not.

Reaper had that effect on people, but that is why he had her at his side.

Sister Daelle, or Dee as she was commonly known, had always had a gift for knowing just what to say. Had she not been blinded at fourteen she might have risen to a life far above that of a chantry sister. Yet, she tried not to be bitter about what happened. The Maker had a plan she believed.

Her blindness was part of that plan.

As for her, people usually responded with politeness, and sometimes a bit of pity. The former was expected, the latter she did not enjoy.

Most people she had met in her travels with Reaper thought that blindness meant helpless, that was simply not so. It took her a bit to learn where everything was, but once she did, provided no one started moving things around, she could function as well as any other girl who had chosen to give her life to the chantry.

She had always been smart, since losing her sight; she had had to become smarter.

She had first been taken to the chantry at a young age, the daughter of an Orlesian merchant and a Ferelden soldier. Her life would likely have been something entirely different if not for the accident that had taken her eyes. Her mother had been very successful, having taken over her father's business in her early twenties, and having grown it into one of the most successful trading houses in the empire.

Then had come the darkspawn, and the Siege of Denerim, Dee's mother had not survived those sad events, and her daughter had been left alone, blinded and lost.

…Until the chantry had found her, and put her on another path…

…Until Andraste had found her, she and the woman she would come to know as Sister Nightingale

After that, she had found a new purpose.

She did not have her sight, but that did not mean that she was nothing. She had learned the healing arts despite not having the use of her eyes. Her bag of healing supplies labeled just so, that when she needed something it was always in hands reach. How many times had she patched Reaper up in the last year? She had also trained with her staff, what she used for a walking stick. Twirling blocks and strikes directed at the sound of any would-be attacker. How many times had she managed to fend for herself with only her staff for protection?

Many times, yet even Reaper did not see that. He worried about her, and even though she was flattered by his concern, that did not mean she wished to spend her life as a damsel in distress.

Blindness was only a problem if she let it become one, so far, she had not.

She sighed and sat back in her chair the fire was dying, she could feel how much its warmth had faded in the last few hours, she could have poked at it, or added more wood, but she did not.

What did it matter if she felt cold? Reaper was facing something far worse at that moment. What did her discomfort compare to that…?

…In the larger scheme of things, not much really.

She worried, but tried not to focus on that. The young man she knew only as Reaper was quite skilled, if anyone could survive what he faced right now, it would be him.

There was a knock at her door, startling her, but quickly she regained her composure. She turned towards the sound but did not bother rising.

"Yes," she called out.

"It is Janos, Sister, the innkeep," she heard through the door, "Is everything alright in there? Can I get you something?"

She smiled slightly.

She should have known who it was from the heavy footfalls in the hall, had he entered; she would have recognized his scent as well. She tried to picture the way the man must look in her head. Reaper had described him of course. Dark red hair, peppered with gray, that and a large handle bar mustache that was so heavily oiled that the man must never go near a candle, lest he burst into flames.

The thought made her chuckle.

A kind man, she thought to herself, a rare thing in such troubled times.

"I'm fine Serah," she called back, "And thank you, may the blessings of the Maker and his bride be upon you."

She listened as the man retreated. Briefly she remembered another encounter she and Reaper had been through together, one not as amicable as this one had been. They had been staying at an inn, like this one and one night she had realized that several men were gathering outside their room.

She had mentioned that to Reaper, who had told her to stay back, and that he would handle…whatever it was that was about to happen. What had happened next had been a flurry of violence, angry howls and the sound of clashing steel, followed by wounded moans, and the quickly cut off cries of the dying. The thugs that had broken in that night had been agents of a knight captain that Sister Leliana had wanted them to investigate. The man had thought his poorly trained mercenaries would be a match for a knight of the chantry, one who had been blessed by the holy fires that had shielded the Sacred Ashes of Andraste.

That night Reaper had taught them the error. Later that morning, he had seen those men's leader, their quarry hanged for his crimes.

Another death, she thought, another step on the road to purifying the chantry.

Slow work perhaps, but necessary.

Both the Divine and Sister Leliana had come to the conclusion that the Templar order was not what it once was. Greed had taken root, and from its branches had grown cruelty and unchecked ambition within the ranks.

The Divine believed it possible to correct that, through both political machinations, and skilled agents willing to do what needed to be done.

"You will be hunting monsters," Sister Leliana had told them, "both otherworldly, and the human kind. Her Perfection will deal with those in the Grand Cathedral; your task will be cleansing those that think they slip beneath the notice of the priests and Seekers."

They had both swore to see that mission done, and now here they were almost two years later. He was a warrior of terrible skill and power, and she the healer at his side.

Reaper was one of the Divine's best agents, and Dee was his partner. He was not afraid to use violence when necessary, but that was not all he was, he was more than a simple sword.

Dee knew that to be true.

Reaper was hard man, no one doubted that, but at the same time, he never failed to try and make her smile. He was strong, but he was also a man of great faith. He loved both Andraste and the Maker, and was pleased to be doing their work. He also had a softer side she had come to know, a gentle side. They had been traveling together now for almost two years, and in that time, they had become as close as man and woman could be…

The thought gave her pause, that and several other thoughts that she would never give voice to.

The sister frowned.

Well…maybe not _**that**_ close, she thought to herself.

They were friends yes, partners as well, but beyond that, nothing more could they become. Reaper served as hand to the Left hand of the Divine, and Dee had sworn herself to the chantry, taken her vows, and pledged herself to a life service and chastity.

She would ride with him, tend his wounds, and give him counsel and prayer when asked, beyond that…nothing more could happen between them, and she was fine with that.

Yet in the back of her mind a small voice spoke up, the one that had resisted the chantry and every promise she had made to it. She had done her best to keep that voice silent and in check, but sometimes there was nothing she could do to silence it.

At that moment it had only one word to say to her.

 _Liar._

The thought made her frown deepen.

It was not an easy path that she walked.

Early on in their partnership, Reaper had let her "see" who he was. She ran her hands over his face, getting a sense of his features. It was a handsome face, she thought. She had only just begun to recognize handsomeness in boys when her sight had been taken, but she still remembered what it was. As she tended his wounds over the last year, she had gotten to know his body as well, arms of hard muscle, a flat stomach, and strong powerful legs. He guided her hands over his injuries or some other helpful sister or servant of the chantry had, and in doing so she came to know much of her travelling companion, her brave knight.

More than once…she had felt…stirring when they had been alone together, when they were alone, when she could hear his breathing at night. Thoughts turned to…darker wants and desires.

In those moments….she begged holy Andraste for strength.

Temptation was not an easy burden to bear.

She was not unattractive, she knew that from listening to those men around her, they did not think she heard their lude comments, but she had. She had been pretty as a girl; she remembered that from the reflection she had seen long ago. Pale skinned with blonde hair, her blue eyes had been left cloudy from her injury, yet still were commented on by the men they passed.

Reaper had noticed that, she thought, at least she thought he had. Some nights when they were alone when she was tending this cut or that she had felt his gentle hands on her arm or shoulder, felt him shudder beneath her touch, heard his breathing quicken, ever so slightly, and heard the slight huskiness in his voice.

Even now those memories made her mouth go dry.

She shook her head; such memories brought unwanted warmth to her body, in places she did not like to think about...

She took a shuddering breath, and did her better to center her mind, asking again for strength to the resist temptation.

Sometimes she wondered why it had been her that had been given this assignment. Reaper was a valuable chantry asset; surely someone better could have been chosen then her.

It was not her skills as a healer that was for certain, there were several sisters both in Denerim and in Haven who could do the job just as well as she, better being that they had use of all of their senses. Yet, Sister Leliana, her mentor had suggested that she was best for this post…

Perhaps the Left Hand of the Divine saw something in her that Dee did not or perhaps…just perhaps…

The Nightingale had other motivations.

Dee had heard the rumors about Sister Leliana, stories about her being an Orlesian bard in her youth, a bard who had not only been skilled at manipulation, but had excelled at it.

Dee found herself thinking about what she knew about Reaper, where he had come from, or rather, what she had heard.

Reaper, not his real name of course, had been a Templar assigned to the protection of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Three years ago a group of rogue Templars had struck at the temple, attempting to either seize or destroy the holy relic.

Reaper had stood in the chamber where the ashes were kept, he had held off the foe, and, in the end, pushed the mastermind of the attack into the holy flames that were the final test to those that sought the ashes.

The attacker had died, his body turned to ash by the intensity of the flames. Reaper…had not; he had been cleansed, saved, and then…sent back. A few days after the battle the flames had died down, and he was found by the acolytes who tended the temple. His armor and weapons burned away, along with any true memory of his past. He knew his name, his skills, and that he had been a Templar, beyond that…nothing.

Sister Leliana had been there during that attack, she had taken purified knight back to Val Royeaux with her, only to return him a few months later. It was then that Dee and Reaper's mission had begun. She still remembered how shy he had seemed, so intimidated.

In many ways they had been alike both had lost everything they had ever known because of a battle that was beyond them, a battle that had left them empty, broken.

A pair of lost souls.

Was that why Sister Leliana had chosen her? Reaper may have been a Templar trained, but the flames had taken away any memory of his past duties. All he had was his faith and his skills. He served Andraste and the Maker first and foremost, and had been rewarded for that service with abilities beyond that of a normal Templar or Seeker.

Surely Leliana recognized the need to control such asset. Had the Nightingale hoped that Dee and Reaper would become more than friends? Had she hoped that feelings would develop between the pair? That they would give into lust and that she would bind the boy to chantry?

It was hard to say. The Nightingale kept her own counsel, she could have…

Agitated voices below shook her from her musings, the few townsfolk that had remained in the tavern below, suddenly roused by something.

She rose and went to the door opening it; she cocked her head listening hoping to hear good news.

 _Is it done Ser Knight?_

 _Is the monster dead?_

 _Praise Andraste that you have returned._

Dee smiled. She could hear footfalls approaching the stairs, familiar footfalls.

 _Reaper had returned._

She turned and made her way to the small table where bag of supplies waited

Reaper was coming up the stairs.

He likely had need of her skills.

Her hands ran over the bag, and found the clasp; she undid it, hearing the reassuring tinkling sound of the bottles of ointments, salves, and poultices.

Good sounds, reassuring sounds.

Reaper had done his job and returned to her.

Now it was time to do hers, and Maker willing…

…she would succeed.


	2. Reaper

**Chapter 2: Reaper**

He sank down on one of the two beds in their room, his body sinking into the straw mattress. He could feel the tightness of the bandages around his waist and across his chest, smell the boiled wine that had been used to clean his wounds, the herbs spread across his burns, both to aid in the healing and to negate any demonic poisons that might have coated the monster's claws.

Reaper let out a shuddering breath, not an easy thing given the tightness of the bandages, but necessary to the healing process.

"Are you in great pain?"

The paladin glanced up, Dee had stopped mid step her unseeing eyes directed at where he lay.

He shook his head and coughed, realizing that she needed more than that.

It was not like she could hear him shake his head after all.

"I'll be alright," he said, his voice slightly slurred by the strong wine she had given him to help dull the pain. "Bandages are a little tight, but…"

"They are tight as they need to be," the two said in unison.

Despite his injuries, Reaper smiled, more from the amused look on Dee's face than the familiarity that had grown between them over the last few months.

 _She_ _ **knows**_ _me, probably better than I know myself._

He snorted with amusement.

That was not very hard, considering his history.

The sister turned and went back to the table where her bag of tricks sat. Reaper watched as she moved with diligent almost mechanical purpose, her fingers drifting over the various bottles, feeling the symbols on the stoppers, occasionally picking up this bottle or that, shaking it close to her ear, determining what supply would need to be replaced before leaving on their next assignment.

The sight was enough to make the warrior chuckle.

He was determined; no one would doubt that, but Dee…Dee,

He smiled fondly.

She was an unstoppable force when it came to her duties, it did not matter that the Maker had taken her eyes. She was a rock when it came to her faith and her resolve.

He would not have it any other way.

She was amazing!

He could not have asked for a better partner.

As she worked their conversation turned to the job, as it always did after she had finished patching him up. Dee was not a warrior herself, but that did not mean she was not interested in what threats that they had been sent to deal with.

Had anyone else asked, Reaper would have just glared at them and said nothing. He had no interest in telling war stories. It was enough that he had fought and bled to see the Maker's flock protected, with Dee however, there were no secrets; he had come to value her opinion and her insight.

It was not confession, but it was close.

"What was it?" she asked, her fingers still drifting over the bottles in her bag.

"Desire abomination," he answered, "It seems that Sister Leliana's contacts were right."

Reaper stretched his arm trying to get comfortable, despite the bandages.

"It had possessed a young woman."

"That certainly confirms what the Knight-Lieutenant you hanged said."

Reaper's eyes narrowed. He sat up, the sound drew the girl's attention and she turned.

He frowned.

Three Templars, three men of the faith executed, at his orders.

Some might say that he did not have the right.

Some might have called his reaction extreme. Some might have said that he should have turned the lieutenant and his men over to the nearest Templar garrison, or had them locked up until a chantry Seeker could come and judge them for their crimes.

He could have done that true, but what was the point. Any Seeker worth his salt would have hanged the three for consorting with a demon, allowing it's influence grow and fester right under their notice. What he had done had been the Maker's justice.

He would not second guess himself.

"You disapprove?" he asked his partner.

Dee shrugged.

"It is not my place to approve or disapprove," she said, "The Divine gave you full authority to deal with any threat the way you see fit."

A diplomatic answer sure, but not the one the warrior wanted.

He frowned at her.

"That is the official mandate, Dee," he said, "I'm asking how _**you**_ feel?"

The blind girl's brow furrowed, her pale blue eyes looking at nothing, but perhaps seeing something that no one else could comprehend.

She sighed.

"I heard the confessions. Those men turned to the demon when they desired any woman in village, wed or not, of age or not."

Dee frowned.

"They took the creature's "Gifts" how could I possibly disapprove of what you did? This village deserved to be free of those men as much as the demon itself."

"You did right," she added, "How could you have done anything else?"

He considered what she said, and finally…

…Reaper nodded.

As always Dee had put into words what he knew to be true, he was not the most well-spoken man in Thedas.

It was why he was grateful to have her at his side.

He had resisted the idea of having a partner, someone who might question what he needed to do. Sister Leliana had assured him that Sister Daelle would not cause a problem. Her faith was as strong as his, and she understood what needed to be done. He had not been sure he had wanted to bring a blind girl with him, afraid she might have slowed him down or gotten in the way, he did not wish to carry such a burden. Dee had quickly proven that she was anything but a burden, not only keeping him strong and healthy, but calling him out on his bullshit when someone else would have chosen to remain silent.

She could be as stubborn as a mule, but her heart with in the right place, and her faith was true.

Who else would be able to put up with him?

He had no good answer.

Dee returned to work while he lay back on the straw mattress. Yet, rest would not come; he found his eyes drawn back to his partner, murmuring softly to herself as she tended to her supplies. She had stoked the fire as he had slid out of his shirt and damaged breastplate, the flames now turned the white of her chantry robes orange, the crimson the color of dried blood, yet…yet…

He swallowed hard.

It did nothing to take away from her beauty.

A man would have to be blind himself not to see that.

Tall and slender Dee had a body that most noble maiden would have killed for, and that most men would fight to possess. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun that would have looked unattractive on most women, but only served to draw attention to Dee's lovely neck.

Reaper licked his lips.

He would be lying if he said he had not thought about that lovely neck, how soft it would be to either fingers or lips. What it would be like to pull Dee into his arms to bury his fingers in that long blonde hair, to feel her shudder as he kissed her shoulders and worked his way up that lovely throat. To hear her moan when…

He blinked and shook his head.

Maker's breath, he thought.

What am I doing?

He turned away, suddenly feeling ashamed.

He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer for strength.

The desire demon's song was still in his head, its honeyed promises still in his ears.

" _Whatever you want,"_ The demon had purred.

" _Whatever you want."_

IOI

The hunt had led him to a small pond a few miles away from the main village. Once upon a time, the lone farmhouse here had belonged to a wealthy family. A landed knight that had been gifted good holding from his service during the Blight. The man had moved his wife and young daughter here after the fighting had ended…

The knight had died years ago, his wife not long after that, the daughter…well…people said she had disappeared…

…but Sister Leliana's agents had said otherwise.

Reaper left his horse hobbled not far from the ruins of the farmhouse. The path was mostly overgrown, the roof had collapsed on the barn and the door to the dwelling hung half off its hinges…

The nearby pond looked like it was made of glass, the large moon shined down on it, not a ripple disturbed its surface. No tree branches moved, no night birds sang among the branches, it was like the entire world had abandoned this place, turned its back, hoping that it would be forgotten.

Perhaps it might have been forgotten, had it not been for the disappearances. Both girls from the villages and daughters and wives of travelers' pathing through, men and boys disappeared as well, but the creature it seemed preferred more…feminine prey.

Reaper glanced around cautiously. He thought he could see the skulls of all those lost here staring out shadows, their empty sockets accusing any that had let them be lost in the first place.

Reaper drew his blade; his shield went up, the sunburst brand of Andraste marking his loyalty for all to see.

It was then that he heard a voice, a voice both sweet and perhaps a little sad.

"Help me."

He turned keeping his shield between himself and the speaker, just in case.

A young woman sauntered out of the half fallen barn. Her clothing identified her as a girl of wealth or noble birth, but it had clearly been patched in certain places.

She smiled at him; dark purple eyes shown in the moonlight, long raven colored hair flowed down to the small of her back.

Reaper blinked.

"Brave knight," she purred in a honey sweet voice, "Will you help me?"

His eyes narrowed, had he been anyone else, he would have ran to the girl's side. Eager to do whatever it took to keep her safe from harm.

Reaper was not just anyone.

"Tell me," he said, "Is this how you turned the local Templars into your pawns?"

For the briefest of moments, the girl paused, a flash of anger shown in those purple eyes, eyes almost glowing now in the pale moonlight.

Then, like a cloud moving across the moon it was gone, the "girl" was back in control again.

She gave him a pouty look.

"We all want something," she told him moving farther into the overgrown courtyard her cloak fell away from her shoulders, revealing an off the shoulder top that only barely contained the girl's ample breast, a feature made even more pronounced by the corset that ringed her slim waist.

She paced around him, every movement sensuously choreographed, even the slightest turn of her head spoke of sex.

Reaper did not relax his guard. He had seen a portrait of the old knight's daughter, there was some resemblance between her and the "woman" standing before him, but that was it, that girl had been far more…plain.

Perhaps that was why this nightmare had begun in the first place; perhaps she had though the spirit could make her more than what she was?

"All men want something," she said as she continued to pace around him, "they may say they do not, but in the darkest corners of their hearts…"

She grinned widely.

"They all… **want**."

He never took his eyes off her, never lowed his weapon.

"And what do you want?" he asked her.

"To live life," she said, "To find love, and never let it go."

She stood before him, her heart mere inches from his blade.

"You could be that love," she said, "You could stay with me, and be one with me…for an eternity."

He felt her power, the need washing over him, yet he did not lower his weapon.

How many others had fallen for this creature's act, how many not watched this confrontation as skulls slowly turning to dust in the long grass?

The girl brought her hands to her face.

"Perhaps, you want something more than me," she said, perhaps you would like to know the past? I could give it back to you."

She lowered her hands.

Reaper's sword lowered, his shield went to his side.

That face, he thought.

I…I know that face.

The knight's daughter was gone, in her place stood a beautiful female elf clad in silver and blue armor. Her dark hair was cut short like a boy's but that was the only thing boyish about her. Her figure was a man's most desired fantasy, her ruby colored eyes shone with mischief and playfulness.

She gave him a soft come hither look.

"Would you like to remember me, handsome?" she said in an accent that spoke of a life in Val Royeaux.

"Would you like to know what we shared? All the wonderful things we did when the last candle burned out in our room."

Reaper took a step back; half burned away memories of the girl swam to the surface, but were gone just as quickly.

What he had been, who he had been was gone.

It had all been taken, and in its place only holy flame.

The elf smiled.

"Perhaps you need something more, something…closer to home."

She ran her fingers over her features again, and like water, they flowed and changed.

Dee stood before him now, not Sister Daelle, but the Dee that existed only in his fantasies.

A Dee that was his and his alone.

She smiled at him, her blue eyes clear and piercing, they saw everything.

They knew everything, what he wanted, and what she did as well.

That gaze burned into him, robbing him of his wariness, robbing him of his strength.

His sword and shield fell from his hands with a clatter.

He barely even heard them.

Dee, this perfected Dee smiled.

Is this what you want Reaper," she asked as her top and skirt fell away, she advanced upon him, he did not even have the strength to back away. Her pale skin seemed to blaze in the moonlight.

She touched his face, not Dee's feather-light touch, but a grip that was both hungry and demanding.

She took his face in her hands, her blue eyes glowing like torches.

"Let me give you what you want," she said in a husky voice, "Everything you want."

He whimpered, a sound part fear and part desire, he closed his eyes and leaned in.

"Dee" smiled, and leaned in as well, eager to claim his kiss.

"Whatever you want," she murmured.

His hand went to her face then…

…It burst into flames.

The creature howled; it raked Reaper across the chest as it threw him back. The abomination's face was on fire, morphing between Dee, the elven girl, and the knight's daughter all at once.

Reaper struggled to his feet; he rolled forward, seizing his sword and shield.

He glared at the abomination.

"Whatever I want huh?" he spat, "You on fire seems like a good start."

The abomination wailed, its features melting, it's pretty form bulging outward, long taloned fingers punched through silken gloves skin bubbled and turned both rough and scaly at the same time.

The abomination glared at the knight.

"What are you mortal," it snarled, its face still smoldering, "What power is this?"

"The cleansing flame," he shouted back, and raised his sword.

"Have another taste."

He lunged forward as the sword burst into flames. The monster flung an arcane bolt, his shield caught the bulk of it, but he still felt the strike burn his side just below where his plate and mail met.

It did not stop him; he pushed through the pain, throwing himself at the monster.

The abomination back pedaled, the demon was not a fighter; it was used to using trickery to ensnare its prey, more spider than demon. It tried to catch him with another arcane bolt.

Reaper took its arm off at the elbow.

The creature cried out and tried to flee.

Reaper used the Templar disciplines, he drew all the mana from the creature, it staggered and fell, yet still it tried to crawl away to escape the burning blade, and the light that lit the whole courtyard.

By the light of the fire, Reaper could see the skulls of the creature's victims, their empty sockets watching the battle, for almost five years now this monster had preyed on the people here.

At long last, their justice had come, and now it was time to see it served.

"No," the abomination whimpered, its voice once again that of the knight's daughter, her once perfect features now marred by the burns, "Mercy brave knight! I will serve you! I will give you your dreams! Please I will do anything!"

Reaper drove his boot down hard on the creature's spine, stopping its frantic escape.

He raised his blade, the fire that had once been confined to the room that held the urn of Sacred Ashes turned night into day.

The demon wailed.

"SPARE ME!" it shrieked, "THE LIGHT IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"

Reaper was unmoved, how many of the creature's victims had begged.

Far too many.

No more, he thought.

No more.

"Find peace in the Maker's embrace," the knight shouted.

He brought the blade down and around.

The abomination had just enough time to look up and around. It shrieked in anger and terror!

The sword found her neck.

The head left her shoulders and rolled to a stop near the tall dry grass, tears ran down its burned cheeks, its features melting and reforming, trying to stay beautiful even in death.

Reaper gasped and staggered back he fell to his knees coughing and fighting for breath.

He blinked looking down at his breastplate three long gashes had ripped through good castle forged steel. The demon's claws had been far sharper than most would have thought.

He coughed again.

He did not think the wound was deep, but it would need Dee's attention.

Dee.

He shook his head.

Memories came to him then, half remembered, mostly burned away. A lullaby sang to a boy on many a cold night, sung by…who?

He could not remember.

He staggered to his feet, angry at his weakness, and at the temptation he had almost surrendered too; given into temptation, and the lust in his heart.

He cursed himself a fool.

He looked around at the farmhouse and the ruined barn. For too long this had been a sanctuary for evil.

No more.

Never more!

He raised his hand, and again the flames flared to life, hot and cleansing.

He lowered his head in prayer.

"Let the flames that cleansed me cleanse this place."

He ran his fingers along the ruined barn, letting the fire take it; he then picked up a long abandoned torch and lit the end. He tossed it through the window of the farmhouse.

Soon everything around him was ablaze.

He watched the fire rage around him, hungry to consume whatever evil might still haunt this place, then as the farmhouse collapsed in on itself, he staggered away from the courtyard, only to stop…remembering something.

He cursed under his breath.

There was one last thing he had to do.

He found the monster's head.

The face that stared up at him was barely burned, but it was nothing like the one he had seen when he had arrived. The face was too long, the mouth and lips too small to ever be considered attractive. The huge nose poked out like a spike.

Reaper sighed.

It was the face of the knight's daughter, her _**true**_ face, before she let the demon in.

He shook his head.

Had been for vanity alone that she had sought out the demon? Had she desired some young man's attention, and been denied? Had she known what she would unleash on her home?

Who could say, and in the end, did it truly matter?

He sighed.

He felt pity for this poor girl, not for what she had become, but for what might have been.

A loss, he thought, a waste.

He carried the head back to his horse, stuffing it in a thick burlap bag.

He took one last glance back at the farm house, the barn had now collapsed in on itself, and the wind had picked up, whistling through the trees.

What was this now, the victims of the creature crying for vengeance, or perhaps the demon itself; wailing in defeat?

Reaper could not say.

He was simply a soldier, a paladin, and he needed to return to the village.

He was injured.

Dee was waiting.

IOI

"Reaper?"

He awoke with a start; he had not realized he had fallen asleep.

He blinked in the low light.

Dee stood over him, clad not in her robes but in a flossy white nightgown.

She was frowning.

"Are you okay?" she asked, "Can I get you something?"

He let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine Dee," he said willing his breathing to slow.

She cocked her head.

"Bad dream?"

He shuddered.

"Memory," he said, "Tonight's."

She sighed and sat down next to him.

Her hand went up to his face.

He took it and guided to him, let her run her fingers over his features.

He almost whimpered, enjoying her touch, feather-light, yet firm, the slight smell of healing herbs and lilac on her skin.

"You did right," she murmured, "Never question that."

She took her hand from his face, but he caught her wrist, gently, he stroked her fingers.

Dee shuddered, he might have been wrong, but he thought she might be blushing slightly.

"Thank you Dee," he purred, "Maker bless you."

She smiled and slipped away from him, perhaps too fast that she needed to. He felt a surge of disappointment. Yet he tried not to let her hear it."

"We…um…we should get some sleep," she said feeling her way to her own bed.

He watched her lay down. Dawn was not far off now, but and he could just make out her features, they seemed troubled.

He feared that he was the cause.

"Rest now Reaper," she said, "You have had a hard night."

He nodded.

"We both have."

He heard her chuckle.

"No argument here," she said dryly turning away from him.

He leaned back staring up at the ceiling of their room, thinking about the demon, its promises and the half-forgotten lullaby.

"You did well tonight, my knight," she murmured, "You are a good man."

Reaper swallowed hard.

He tried not to look at Dee. He tried not to think about what he truly wanted, what he would do if she only asked.

He shuddered

He was a good man; that is what she said.

He closed his eyes, the cleansing flames came to him them, but not even they could cleanse this desire, this want.

A good man?

He sighed.

He doubted it.


	3. Leliana

**Chapter 3: Leliana**

"Prepare yourself, this will hurt."

Dee nodded gamely. Behind her, she could hear Sister Nightingale opening a pot of salve. From the smell she recognized what it was immediately, and knew what effect it would have.

She suppressed a shudder.

Her mentor was _not_ wrong.

This _**would**_ hurt.

They had only arrived in Val Royeaux a week ago, but in that short period of time she had not seen Reaper once. They had been separated less than an hour after their arrival. He had been led off by the Templars and her, by her fellow sisters.

Dee's mouth became a grim line.

Whatever her knight faced right now, she suspected that it was nothing good. The summons here had come from the Lord Seeker himself.

Lambert Van Reeves was not known for summoning someone to express his gratitude, no…

Whatever Reaper was about to face…

…it would not be pleasant.

Sister Leliana had done what she could to distract her, prayer sessions with the Revered Mothers. Introductions to new healing salves and ointments, useful in her line of work to be sure, and then of course there was combat training.

Dee found that most helpful in trying to not worry about Reaper.

The two women had gone down to a large circular room in the lower levels of the Grand Cathedral. Dee was not sure what this place had been used for in the past, but today, and many days before in the last few years it had served as a training room for her and her mentor. It was here that she and Leliana would done leather armor, and spar for an hour or two.

For Dee it was an exercise in defense, she held her staff at the ready while Leliana circled around her like a hungry predator, darting in every now and then to try and strike the blind girl.

Dee remained still as her opponent circled, she could not see with her eyes, but that did not mean that she could not find the other woman. No matter how cat-like her mentor's tread, she still made noise, the cracking of leather plates, the sound of her excited breathing, even a shift in the air could bring the scent of dried wild flowers to Dee's nose, giving her an idea of where her opponent was, and once she knew that, she would twirl her staff, keeping the other woman away, striking her if she tried to move in too close too fast.

It was a dance they both knew well; they had been dancing it for almost ten years now.

To most, this would seem like an unfair match-up, a battle hardened bard versus a blind chantry sister, yet, Dee had learned how to use her remaining four senses to even the battlefield, even to give almost as good as she got.

Most people would find that hard to believe, but the proof could be found on the bruises on Sister Nightingale's back, arms, and legs.

Sister Daelle was not helpless.

Sister Leliana had made sure that that was the one thing that she would never be.

She prepared herself for the burning salve, determined to not cry out in pain. The leather armor she wore stuck to her sweaty form, her blonde hair, in a neat braid when she had entered, now hung in a tangled mess, the result of the dodging and swinging blocks and strikes she had used to defend herself against her mentor's attacks. Well, most of them anyway.

"You do not usually take so many hits," Leliana said conversationally, "In fact; it has been a long time since I've left you in such a state."

The Nightingale paused.

"Is something wrong Dee?"

The blind girl frowned.

She was not sure how best to respond.

She needed to be careful.

"It has been a while since I trained," she said.

She swallowed hard, hoping her mentor would not recognize the lie in her words.

She shrugged.

"I fear that I'm a bit out of practisss…hiss… **UGH!"**

The salve burned as it touched her skin. Leliana gently applied it to the rather large welt across her upper-back, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

Dee did her best to slow her breathing, despite her preparation; a single tear ran down her face, she could taste it, that and the salty sweat on her skin.

She felt a surge of embarrassment, of shame. She did not like to show weakness before her mentor. Sister Leliana was a hero of the Blight. She was strong.

Dee endeavored to be just as strong.

She did not wish to disappoint the Nightingale.

Leliana's touch was gentle as she applied the medicine, the burning passed quickly, leaving in its wake only a cool sense of relief.

Dee feared what her mentor would say next, a rebuke certainly, a condemnation of her weakness.

As it turns out she was wrong.

"How are things progressing with Reaper," Sister Leliana inquired, "How are the two of you getting along?"

Dee blinked, surprised by the change of subject.

"He…he has come to trust me," she murmured, wiping nervously at her sweaty arms, the wrist guards she wore clinging to her skin.

A hint of a smile played over Dee's features.

"We have come a long way since we left Haven together."

Dee thought back to those early days, neither of them sure if they could trust the other, nor trusting that they could fulfil the mission that the Divine had given them.

She remembered the conversation between Reaper and her mentor. His voice had been so cold that day, he barely spoke a word to her, barely acknowledged that she was there. He trusted Leliana that was sure, but that did not mean that believed that the blind girl that the Nightingale wished to force upon him was up to the task that they were about to perform.

At the time, she had feared that he would abandon her. That he would go off on his own first chance he got, that would leave her in the wilderness, alone and afraid, that or he would drop her off at the first chantry they had passed.

She had thought their partnership would end before it even had begun.

Much to her surprise, and pleasure, Reaper had not done any of those things.

It had taken a bit of time, but now…he knew he could count on her.

He trusted her, and in turn she trusted him.

"I see," the Nightingale said, her voice revealing nothing of what she might be thinking; now turning her attention to a welt on Dee's right thigh. This time the burning did not course through her entire body, and she was allowed to halt the pained cry before it emerged from her lips.

She heard her mentor step away; Dee did not rise from where she sat. She heard the sound of something being lifted from a table, a new ointment or salve perhaps.

Dee waited for what her teacher had in mind next.

IOI

Trust between the two had been established almost ten years ago, when Sister Leliana had first taken her out of Denerim. At the time Dee had been lost in despair, more a feral wounded animal than a free thinking young woman. Her mother dead, her life destroyed, and worst of all the loss of her eyes had left her nothing to live for, or so she had thought. The loss of her eyes had plunged her depression and anger; she had lashed out viciously at any sister who had tried to help her.

Leliana had reached her the only way she could, the one way that the sisters in Denerim had not tried.

She taught the girl to fight.

Leliana had taken the girl outside the chantry and forced a staff into her hands.

Dee had almost tossed it away, almost tried to return to her despair of the sickbed where she had lay since her injury.

When Leliana spoke there was no softness in her voice, only command.

"You are angry," she had hissed, "You want to hit something? Good. There is a heavy bag before you, strike it with all your might.

"I can't see it, you stupid bitch!" young Dee had whined, "How can I hit what I can't see?!"

"It is right before you, take two steps and you will be in range. Strike it, strike it now!"

Leliana leaned in close, her breath warm in the young girl's ear.

"Do it infant," she spat, "Do it or I will strike you! I will strike you and leave you lying in the mud."

Anger had flared in Dee's heart. It was all she could do to keep from striking the arrogant sister.

"You want to see me hit something?!" she growled, "FINE!"

Dee took two steps and hit the bag with the staff; she hit it over and over again.

Fury and rage and everything she had lost flooded out of her, she screamed in anger, shouted obscenities at the darkspawn, her mother, at the Maker and the entire world.

She hit the bag again and again; she hit it to the staff in her hands splintered and broke apart.

She hit it until tears ran like rain down her face; she hit it until she collapsed in frustration. Her arms awash with pain, sobbing like the child she was.

She wanted her mother. She wanted her old life back, but most importantly, she had wanted to see.

She wanted to see!

Yet, the Maker could grand her none of those things, all he could do was send her Sister Leliana.

As it turned out, that was enough.

She heard the other woman sitting down in front of her.

"You are a fiery one," Sister Leliana had said, "It would be a shame if that fire was to go out."

Dee sniffled.

"What am I going to do," she sobbed, "What am I now?"

She felt the other woman's touch on her face. Her hands were soft and gentle, as soft and gentle as her voice.

"What you become is up to you," she said, "I can only show you a path."

Dee sniffled again.

"I'm helpless," she whimpered.

"I can teach you not to be helpless," the sister said, "You will never be a frontline fighter, not without being able to see, but I can teach you so that you will not be a victim.

Her hand slipped away, for a brief moment Dee was terrified that the woman that was offering her more than empty platitudes and prayers would leave her that this was all some cruel joke.

She almost sobbed with relief when the other woman spoke again.

"I can train you with a staff. The reach will allow you to keep your foes at a distance. You will learn to know where they are by their footsteps, their smell, and the sound of their armor as they move closer. Sight is not the only way to see an enemy. I can show you how this is done if you like."

Dee remembered the anger rise in her breast again, the despair that wanted to leave her crippled, that wanted her to just lie down and die. _False hope_ that despair seemed to scream, _she offers you false hope, she offers you nothing._

Yet something within her, that fire that Leliana had mentioned perhaps, would not let her just give up, just give in.

She reached out, and felt the face of the woman sitting in front of her, the soft skin, the shoulder length hair, even the little braid that was so common among Fereldan women in the south.

Dee could have given in, but she did not. She did not want to die; she did not want to wallow in despair.

"Help me," she had begged.

"Teach me."

Leliana had come to her for the next five years.

Dee found her hope, and her strength.

She found purpose.

She found the Nightingale, and her life was never the same again.

IOI

"You are worried about Reaper; you do not have to be."

Dee blinked; she had been so lost in her the past that she had not heard her mentor return.

"The Lord Seeker could hurt him," she said, "He could hurt him and there would be nothing that we could do about it."

"What makes you say that?" her mentor asked.

Dee sighed.

She loved Leliana, she could not deny that. The woman was the closest thing she had to an older sister in this world. Yet, that did not mean she was not aware of the fact that the former bard liked to test her. Often she had found herself drawn into the Nightingale's games, games that moved her where Leliana needed her to be on the chess board that was chantry politics.

She did not like it, but she played the game the best she could. She knew that Leliana and the Divine were close; she could only hope that whatever it was her mentor was doing that the Divine's hand was guiding it.

She kept the faith with the woman who saved her, if she did not then she was lost.

She set her mouth in a grim line.

Why did she think Reaper was in trouble?

Well, she would tell her.

"I'm blind sister," she said, "Not deaf."

"So I've heard," Leliana said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

It angered Dee, but she did not let it show.

She would not let the other woman distract her.

She pushed on.

"I've heard Templars speaking in the hall," she said, "Most of them have heard about what Reaper and I have been doing over the last year. They know Reaper had several of their brother's hanged."

"I've read the reports," Leliana said, "Reaper did nothing wrong."

"You think the Templars care about that?" Dee asked, ""You told us when we left that we would be dealing with rogue Templars, men and women that were a danger to the order and the chantry. "

"So I did," Leliana agreed.

Dee's brow furrowed.

"What you did not tell us is how wide spread the corruption was. For every honest Maker-fearing Templar we found we discovered five only interested in political power or feathering their own nests. Most we could not touch, but those that we could were only a few steps above outlaws or warlords."

Dee shook her head. Wishing that she could see her mentor's face, wondering if she truly understood what she was saying.

The Divine had sent them out to find out how bad things were with the Templar order well, they had found out…

…and the answer was not good.

"Things have only gotten worse since Kirkwall," Dee added, "The Divine's choice not to call an exalted march on the city has angered many in the order. They believe that Her Perfection does not take the threat of the Circle of Magi seriously."

"And what threat might that be?" Leliana asked.

"The Templars seem to think that the mages are plotting against them, that what happened in Kirkwall is turning into a rallying cry to sever ties between the Circles and the Chantry. If that happens…I…I…I could not say what the Templars would do, but I fear that it would not be in the best interest of the faith."

Leliana sighed and brushed her fingers along Dee's cheek, the younger girl sighed, grateful for the simple show of affection.

At least she knew the Leliana was listening about her worries.

"Perhaps you should tell the Lord Seeker about this," she suggested, "If things are as bad as you say…"

"Would the Lord Seeker do anything?" Dee asked, "I've heard rumors about Kirkwall as well, stories involving the Knight Commander, how she went mad with power and not only took over the city, but tried to execute its champion as well."

Dee shook her head.

"Surely the Seekers should have investigated Kirkwall before everything fell apart; surely they could have done _something_. The Seekers could do much in reassuring the Circles that they are protected, yet they seem to be doing nothing as Templar aggression increases. I've heard that the mages in the white spire are under strict curfew now, that it is almost a complete lockdown. How could such a decision do anything but increase tensions between the Templars and mages?"

"Wisely said," Leliana said, "If Reaper shares these views, then it is good that he is meeting with the Lord Seeker, or will be."

Dee felt her stomach twist nervously.

Would the Lord Seeker listen…or would he simply call Reaper a murderer and call for his execution.

She could not say for sure.

"Leliana," she said reaching out and touching her mentor's face, "Surely you could talk to the Divine about this. Justinia will listen if you ask her to intervene. If Reaper is harmed…"

Leliana took the girl's hand from her face, but not before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"The Divine is aware of what is happening, child," she said, "In fact, she was hoping that Reaper would be summoned before the Lord Seeker."

Dee blinked.

She…she…

Oh Maker!

The Divine _wanted_ this?!

She…she could not believe it.

"If that is true," she said, "Why were we sent out in the first place?"

"To draw the Lord Seeker's attention?"

"It is a bit more complex than that Dee, but yes, his attention."

The blind girl shook her head, suddenly feeling angry.

"So the Divine wanted The Lord Seeker's **wrath** directed at Reaper?"

"Not his wrath," Leliana assured her, "His _interest_."

Dee blinked again.

 _His…interest?_

"Leliana," she murmured, "I…I don't understand."

Her mentor touched her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Trust in the Divine, Dee," she advised.

"Things are changing, and Reaper is right where we need him to be."

"And where is that?" Dee asked feeling a fresh wave of worry wash over her.

Reaper was in danger, she knew it, but she also could not say how she could help get him out of it.

"Reaper is in the lion's den, but he is not defenseless, with luck he will tame the pride, and things can return to normal."

Dee nodded.

Perhaps she thought.

Provided he did not get eaten.

That was always the danger with lions.

The difference between friend and dinner was not often that far off.

Have faith, Leliana advised, and she would do that.

…Both in Reaper and Andraste, between the two hopefully they could come out on top.

Hopefully.

Dee sighed nervously.

Maker save them all.


	4. The Lord Seeker

**Chapter 4: The Lord Seeker**

They had kept him waiting almost a week and a half before the Templars finally brought Reaper before the Lord Seeker. During that time, the young knight had spent much of his time alone. He meditated, read from the Chant of Light, and considered what he was going to say when he was brought before the Leader of the Seekers of Truth.

The truth, most obviously, he thought to himself. Of course given what he had seen in the last year, as well as the events that had occurred in Kirkwall, Reaper recognized the need to perhaps not be as…open as he normally would have been when he spoke with Seeker Van Reeves.

He had not wasted his time of isolation, nor was he broken down by it, if that had been the Lord Seeker's plan. Some people could not handle isolation, they grew nervous, angry, they lashed out and made mistakes.

Reaper was not such a man.

The isolation had reminded him a bit of his recovery in the Temple of Sacred Ashes back in Haven. The place was considered more than holy, likely the most holy site in Thedas, so it was not surprised to find it tended by priests and initiates who took vows of silence as they worked within its walls. All their energies turned to the contemplation of the wonders that surrounded them.

It was into that environment that Reaper had been born, or rather the world he had been returned to after his journey through the holy flames. Though curious, the various priests and acolytes had left any interactions with him to the Revered Mother or to Sister Leliana herself of course.

So the quiet had not been a problem. He had sat in the cell they assigned him and meditated. When he closed his eyes and let his mind drift, he could still see the flames that had restored him, cleansed him…

That…and he thought about Dee as well.

When it came to Dee he was not worried, Sister Leliana had promised that she would be protected. Plus, he did not really believe that the Seekers would see a blind sister as much of a threat. They underestimated his partner because they thought that her lack of sight meant that she was somehow helpless, dependent on him and him alone for her survival and protection.

As far as the Seekers were concerned, they could go on thinking that way. He had no desire to enlighten them.

He had seen enough in the last year to know that she could handle herself. He might like to think himself her knight in shining armor, but could not forget all the times he had lay bleeding and only her skilled hands had insured his survival.

She is more valuable than most people realize. He thought to himself. I must do what I can to shield her from the Lord Seeker's wroth. She may not like it, but it is far better than the alternative.

She is better than me. That light in her…I…I must protect her.

She was too important to him…to his work.

Yet that was not something he would share with the Lord Seeker. No, if anyone was to face the man's ire today it would be him and him alone. Though, if Leliana was to be believed…

…Ire was not the only thing that the Lord Seeker would offer him today.

The thought brought a grim look to Reaper's eyes.

He had spent the last year doing his duty, a duty that had included slaying Templars who were unworthy of their armor, men who had betrayed their oath. Dangers, yes, but still just minnows in the great sea that was the Andrastian Faith, both Leliana and the Divine were after sharks, not minnows.

It would fall to him to determine if the Lord Seeker was one such shark…

… _If the man was_ friend _or_ foe?

His meeting today might go a long way in determining just that.

He was grateful when a Templar escort finally came for him, informing him that the Lord Seeker had returned and was ready to see him now.

Reaper nodded, brushed off his leggings and with as much serenity as he could manage, marched out into the corridor. They passed by several initiates and sisters, most of them young women who likely only recently had taken their vows.

Reaper must have been a strange sight to them. The Templars had taken his armor and weapons, leaving him only a rough spun shirt and leather breeches during his captivity.

He thought he heard a pair of young initiates twitter nervously as he and his escort turned a corner, they might even have giggled as well.

What they found amusing, he could not say, perhaps it had nothing to do with him. Perhaps they knew something about one of his Templar escorts.

What that could be, he could not guess, both men looked almost uniform in their matching armor and helms. They could have been mirror reflections of each other, both with similar builds and close to the same height.

The conformity of the Templar order, Reaper thought disdainfully. He had been one of them once, perhaps he had even agreed with whatever dogma was whispered in the barracks when the Clerics and Revered Mothers were no longer listening.

He found himself wondering more and more about the men behind him.

Did they know why he had been summoned?

Were they hoping that he would be punished for the deaths of their brothers?

Did they even care that those men had betrayed the chantry and everything it stood for?

Reaper did not know.

And he would not know…at least until he had a chance to speak with the Lord Seeker.

Then…he would have a better idea of what was truly going on in the Templar Order, and what he would need to do in the future.

The thought pleased him.

He was tired of dining on minnows.

The time had come to taste a shark.

IOI

His escorts showed him to a small office in one of the towers of the Cathedral, within the Lord Seeker awaited his arrival. The Templars ushered him in, before turning to wait outside.

Reaper took in his surroundings.

The office contained little in the way of decoration, it might have been sitting empty before the Lord Seeker had claimed it. No books lined the shelves, no plants or artwork was present. Only a single holy banner bearing the sign of the chantry marked this place as being part of the Grand Cathedral. His eyes fell to a large oak desk, and behind it the Lord Seeker sat, quill in hand, catching up on some pressing paperwork no doubt.

Reaper went up to him, and stood at attention, awaiting the man's word.

The Lord Seeker did not look like a man accustom to an office. Despite the salt and pepper coloring of his hair, the man had the bearing of a warrior. His features harsh, as if cut from stone. He did not acknowledge Reaper right away, just continued with his work, despite the fact that he must have heard the younger man enter.

Reaper said nothing, he did not clear his throat, or call out that he was reporting as ordered. If that was what the Lord Seeker wanted he would have glanced up at him, no, he suspected that there was something else going on here.

It is the waiting game again, he thought, First he keeps me waiting in my cell, now he does not acknowledge my presence. He wants me to be frustrated, off guard.

Reaper straightened his back though he did not remember much of his past life; he did remember the patience that had been drilled into during his Templar training.

If the Lord Seeker wanted him to wait, he would wait.

For almost five minutes this continued, he stood at attention while the older man wrote. When the Lord Seeker did respond, he did not even bother to look up from his papers; he might have well been addressing the weather.

"You are the one they call Reaper?" he said coolly.

"I am ser," Reaper replied, never once breaking his stance.

Still the older man did not meet his gaze; he might well have been a mouse for all the man seemed to care.

"What is your **true** name ser?" The Lord seeker asked.

"Now…it is Reaper."

That response finally warranted an action from the leader of the Seekers of Truth.

Lambert paused in his writing; his grey eyes came up, finally looking on the younger man for the first time.

Reaper resisted a desire to squirm.

The man had cold eyes, he thought, those eyes could flay a man.

"Is that supposed to be amusing?" the Lord Seeker asked.

"Not at all, ser, following my…assignment in Haven, the Divine herself summoned me here to the capital. She declared that I had been given a rare gift and that who I was…was gone."

The younger man shrugged.

"It was **she** that gave me my new name, as to who I was before, that man is gone. If the Lord Seeker wishes, I'm certain my former name is listed in the Divine's files, I'm certain she would allow you to see it…"

The man snorted, he waved his hand dismissively.

"Unnecessary," he said with a wave of his hand, "Who you were is unimportant now I'm sure."

Reaper almost smiled.

The man was cold but he was _**not**_ that cold. Reaper could hear it in his voice.

Who he had been still interested the Lord Seeker, likely he would have his own agents dig into the Divine's files, searching for everything they could find on Reaper and his past.

A man with no past is most deadly, Leliana had said before sending him out for the first time. Such a man is not easily manipulated or leveraged.

Such a man was useful for many reasons.

No doubt she had known that the Lord Seeker would look into his past, whether there was anything left to find, he could not say, and truth be told, it did not matter to him if there was.

Let him look, the younger man thought, I have nothing to hide.

Whoever he was before was gone, burned away in the sacred fire of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

He was Reaper now, now and forever.

That was all that mattered.

Again the Lord Seeker returned to his writing, again Reaper fell silent, waiting for the man's next move, after a few moments the man continued.

"Do you know why you were summoned?" he asked.

"I'm guessing you had questions about the performance of my duties, ser."

Again the older man looked up; this time he arched a single eyebrow.

"I was unaware that chantry duties included the murder of chantry personnel," he said, "I've heard that you were a Templar once; tell me, do you have any qualms about having murdered your brothers?"

Reaper tried to keep his face neutral.

Careful now, he thought to himself.

When the summons came to come to Val Royeaux, it had arrived in the hands of another trusted agent of Leliana; the elven girl had her own message, this one straight from the Nightingale's mouth.

She desired that Reaper leave his meeting with the Lord Seeker in the other man's good graces, barring that, at the very least in a place that he might be recruited by the man later. To that end, she had had some suggestions of how best to pique the man's interest.

Reaper did his best to follow those suggestions now.

"Those "men were no brothers of mine," he said coldly, "They were traitors to the order. All guilty of crimes that stained not only our honor but hurt our position in Thedas as well."

Reaper shook his head.

"Such men could not be allowed to live."

"I see," the older man said, his grey eyes revealing nothing of what he might think of all this, "Did it not occur to contact the Seekers, or the Revered Mother of the local chantry? Why did you not turn this matter over to them?"

The truth was that the Divine had provided him with the authority to act as he saw fit, but that was not the answer the Lord Seeker would likely want to hear.

So…Reaper gave him a different answer.

"There were no Seekers in reach. By the time they responded the men at fault would have had time to cover their tracks. As for the mothers well…"

He snorted.

"Prayer would do nothing to deal with this problem, nor any minor act of repentance. Any response the mothers offered would have been…ineffective at best."

"Hm," the Lord Seeker replied. Whether he agreed or not, the young man could not say. Though something in the slight nod he gave suggested that he might.

"You believed those men beyond saving?"

"Yes Ser."

"What about those under the thrall of a demon? Surely once the creature was dead, they would have been freed of its influence. They may have been redeemed given time."

Reaper almost laughed at that.

When it came to dealing with those that trucked with demons, the order's policies were quite clear. Had the three men been mages and not Templars, he and the Lord Seeker would not be having this conversation. He likely would have been commended for his swift action. The fact that those men were Templars…

Plus, Reaper had spoken with the leader of those men before he made his decision. Neither he, nor his two charges seemed to be under the demon's thrall, not in the usual sense anyway. They had even tried to attack him from behind when they learned he intended to deal with their demonic patron.

No, those men did not deserve to be saved, but Reaper did not tell the Lord Seeker about his discussion with those men. It was something that the Lord Seeker would not have wished to hear. He wanted strength, and almost fanatical loyalty to the order.

Reaper intended to give him just that.

"As I said before," he reminded the other man, "Those men weakened our position. They had lost the trust of their charges. Removing them was the best way to restore the people's faith in the order. I do not apologize for that My Lord."

Reaper gave him a sly smile.

"People need to know where the power lies."

This time…the older man did nod, he did not smile exactly, but he seemed to accept Reaper's answer.

"Chantry leadership in the provinces and villages has never been what it needs to be," the Lord Seeker said, "The mothers lack a firm hand, and those of the order stray without strong leadership to keep them on the path."

He sighed.

"The Divine would do better to grant the Knight Commanders tighter reins in their territories. If she did such actions as yours might be avoided in the future."

Interesting, reaper thought to himself.

His Lordship's words suggested that he believed that it was the chantry that was at fault when it came to straying Templars. Reaper was not sure he completely trusted the Knight-Commanders; such men should have learned what he had much earlier and dealt with the matter themselves, and would have, if Lord Lambert had his way. It was not a condemnation of the Divine, but a statement that suggested more than what was actually said.

His words were not treasonous, but did they hint at possible treason in the future? Did the Lord Seeker have designs beyond his station, or was he testing Reaper's loyalty on the Chantry's behalf? Was this all some game of the Divine's?

It would be up to Reaper to find out.

For nearly two hours the two men spoke. His Lordship asked questions and the young knight did his best to answer. It was an odd dance, yet Reaper did his best to follow the tune and the steps the other man called.

They spoke of Kirkwall; of course, Kirkwall was all the order seemed to think about these days. They talked about Grand Cleric Elthina's failure, and the Divine's ineffective response to that crisis.

The younger knight was smart, and did his best to keep his answers to such questions as neutral as possible. If this was all some test by the Divine, he had no desire to disappoint her.

The Lord Seeker next questions turned to him, and what had happened back in Haven. His Lordship was clearly curious about Reaper's new abilities, how they compared to those used by the Seekers of Truth, if those powers could be taught to others, and what they might mean for the future of the order.

He also struck Reaper as more of a politician than the young knight had first expected. The man may have begun as a warrior, but it was clear that had some point he had gained an appreciation and perhaps even a desire for true political power. He never came out and admitted his ambitions, but from what he said it was clear he aspired to be more than a humble servant of the chantry.

The man also asked about Dee, her commitment to Reaper, and her loyalty to the Chantry. His Lordship seemed very interested in where the girl's loyalty would fall if asked to choose between her knight and the faith.

Reaper did his best to minimize her value, he did not want the Lord Seeker to leave this meeting thinking that Dee was a lever he could pull to control the young knight's actions, and he emerged feeling that he had succeeded in that goal.

The Lord Seeker cautioned him to be careful around Dee, share only what he needed to share with her. It was discretion that was needed now. His Lordship had suggested that such discretion would be greatly rewarded, that Reaper, if he remembered where power truly lay, might find himself with a command of his own one day. The Lord Seeker expected loyalty, and loyalty would be rewarded.

By the time their interview ended and Reaper was escorted out he had more questions than answers. The Lord Seeker had said nothing to suggest he was conspiring against Justinia, but had hinted about…"changes" that would be coming soon to the order, changes that could benefit a young man looking to advance himself, a man loyal to his order and his superiors.

Reaper had a sense the Lord Seeker was not speaking of the Divine, but he could not prove it. He needed more time to gather evidence. Perhaps he was even wrong; perhaps the Lord Seeker was simply evaluating him at the Divine's request.

His Lordship promised to be in touch, in the meantime Reaper would return to his duties, and await further instructions.

He intended to do just that. Once he was out of the capital, he intended to get word to Sister Leliana through private channels.

The Nightingale and the Divine needed to hear what he had heard, hear his suspicions.

It would be up to them to decide what happened next.

Reaper returned to his cell, he felt soiled after his meeting; he wanted a bath, and a clean set of clothes.

He intended to collect Dee and be out of the Capital as soon as possible.

He kept thinking about the Lord Seeker's words, about the changes that were coming.

He was not sure what those words meant…and…truth be told…

…he worried what would happen when he finally found out.


	5. Amelia

**Chapter 5: Amelia**

As was her way, Dee enjoyed spending her afternoons in one of the several gardens that surrounded the Grand Cathedral. After morning prayer, after she had finished whatever duties Sister Leliana had given her, she would rise from her quarters and make her daily progress, she liked to sit among the trees and flowers, to enjoy the many scents and sounds of nature that were an uncommon pleasure hear in the capital.

Clad in the red and white robes of the chantry with a habit on her head, she was almost undistinguishable from any other of the faith. The only thing that stood out was the cane she used while here in the capital, that and the white scarf that covered her clouded eyes. An annoyance she thought to herself, but she knew from experience that some found her empty eyes disturbing.

The scarf put most people at ease, though she never really understood why. The explosion that had taken her vision had not harmed her face. Any marks left by the events of that day could have been mistaken for freckles or scars from some childhood illness.

Dee felt no shame for having those marks, it could have been much worse she realized.

She sighed.

Unlike the others that had been caught in the explosion that day, she had survived.

She thanked the Maker for that.

She heard her fellow sisters part as she made her way down, the "tip" "tap" sound of her cane as she made sure there were no obstructions to block her path. She heard the hushed whispers of others as she passed by, a mix of curiosity and pity.

She cared little for either, at that moment her thoughts were directed towards Reaper, her partner had still yet to emerge from isolation by the Templars.

She frowned.

Worry continued to eat at her. It had been almost two weeks now.

How much longer were they going to keep him away from her?

She might have asked Leliana to do some checking for her, but her mentor had left three days ago, some matter that the Divine needed her to attend to. Before she had left though, she had given the younger girl some advice.

 _Try to relax. But be mindful, things are not entirely what they seem in the Cathedral right now._

Her mentor had light brushed her fingers over the girl's face, her touch gentle; a show of affection.

"Be careful," she had advised.

Dee had endeavored to do just that.

Once she crossed the final archway the sounds and smells of the garden welcomed her. From here finding her favorite spot to sit was child's play. She counted the steps, reaching out occasionally to feel a familiar statue or tree. She had made this journey often since she and Reaper's return to the capital, and knew the way like she knew the imperfections on the head of her cane.

Or would be normally, thoughts of Reaper occupied her, twice she lost count of her steps and had to pause and think before continuing on.

She could have asked for help, for an escort, no one would have refused her; still she liked doing things for herself. It was more…comforting in its way, that knowledge, as well as proof to herself that she was not some helpless waif who needed to be led everywhere she went.

She paused when she reached her destination, she bent over slightly, making sure the bench she sought was here, and that she had not made a mistake in her count.

The thought amused her.

That was all she needed to have some initiates see her fall because she was distracted and fell trying to sit on a bench that was still five or six steps away.

That would be embarrassing, most embarrassing indeed.

She was pleased when she felt warm stone beneath her fingertips, warm and worn smooth by the many people who had rested here. She turned and sat, her cane before her, in case she needed to rise quickly.

Dee sighed.

She let the gentle sounds of the garden wash over her. It did not take her cares and concerns away completely, but…it helped.

In her travels with Reaper she had grown use to the sounds of nature.

It was good to be back among them.

She knew the chantry gardens were quite large, though she had never had a chance to see them. During the days before the rise of the empire these gardens were used for food production, food that was used to aid the people against a siege. Those days were long past however, and the gardens had since been converted into place of beauty and religious contemplation.

It was also a place to get away from the politics that had been swirling around the chantry since the incident in Kirkwall. Such an escape was welcome in these trying times.

She tried to focus on the bird song and the sound of wind rustling through the trees. The smell of late summer blossoms.

"Sister Daelle?"

Dee tilted her head slightly at the sound of the new voice, a hint of a smile coming to her lips. Few people spoke to her when she was out here. Perhaps here presence bothered them.

It was interesting to hear a new voice.

"Hello?" she said in greetings.

She listened to the sound of footsteps coming up to her and heard the speaker stop before her.

"You are Sister Daelle are you not?"

The voice that spoke, though feminine, had hardness to it as well. It was a voice used to giving commands, giving them and being obeyed.

Dee did not let any concern show, but she was growing curious.

 _What was_ _ **this**_ _now?_

"I am she," Dee answered nodding slightly, "May the blessings of the Maker and his bride be upon you."

She heard the speaker chuckle.

"I doubt I could be that lucky sister, but thank you just the same."

Dee reached out her hand, the other woman took it, and shook it while Dee grasped her wrist with both hands. It likely meant nothing to her visitor but to Dee it meant a great deal.

You can tell much about a person by their hand, you just needed to know how to look.

She felt the silk sleeve of a chantry robe, but the forearm was far more muscled than one might expect of a chantry sister. There was the woman's hand as well, callused but not from any common labor or farm work.

Reaper had similar callouses; they came from many hours of training with a longsword. Adding up everything she knew she realized that she was not talking with some initiate or simple sister.

Templar perhaps, she thought, or maybe a Seeker of Truth.

Dee tried not to smile.

It seems that Reaper was not the Order's only interest. It seemed they had sent someone to her.

She was flattered.

Now what did they want she wondered?

She suspected that she would find out soon.

"My name is Amelia," the woman said, "Sister Amelia; I'm an admirer of the work you have been doing, you and that knight you work with.

There was the briefest of pauses.

"I was hoping to have a word. If you are willing?"

The woman's words amused her.

 _An admirer?_ Not many in the chantry would admit _**that**_ , not with so many Templars in earshot. Templars could be…touchy when it came to the members of their order. They tended to take offense when one of their fellows was punished, many saw it as a slight on the order as a whole, even if those being punished had been as guilty as sin.

That is what Divine Justinia wished to see changed.

"I have time," she informed the other woman, "It is good to hear from someone who understands that there was no malice in our work. That we were simply trying to help."

Again she heard Amelia chuckle. Whether that reaction was from amusement or sarcasm she could not say, not yet…

She needed to hear more, and the best way to do that was keep her talking.

"Please sit," she said gesturing to a spot beside her, "I have some time before I need to return to my duties. We can talk for a bit and enjoy this glorious day the Maker has granted us."

She heard the sister, if that is what she was; take her place on the bench. Now Dee would have the opportunity to discover just what had brought the woman out here. Once she might have accepted Sister Amelia's words at face value, but her mentor's warnings came back to her.

 _Things are not entirely what they seem in the Cathedral right now._

The Nightingale had taught her well.

It should not take long to piece together who the woman at her side was, and what she might hope to gain from this meeting.

Dee found that there were two types of sisters serving in the Grand Cathedral, those loyal to the faith and those looking to merely advance for power's sake. Those loyal to the faith were traditionally loyal to the Divine, unfortunately the Kirkwall incident had caused many of them to question Justinia's handling of the affair, and wondering why she had not punished Kirkwall its many affronts.

Those loyal to advancement were traditionally from wealthy or noble families, third or fourth born daughters who thought they could do better in chantry and were unwilling to wait and see if their elder siblings failed in their roles as heirs. That or they were girls had gotten in trouble and had no recourse but flee to the chantry, their families' wealth ensuring they found shelter in a place that they still had access to power.

Dee was not sure if Sister Amelia was either of these.

She claimed to have been given to the chantry as a child, that she was the fourth born child of a landed Chevalier and his lady wife, and had spent much of her life in the capital, serving the chantry for almost fifteen years.

Such an origin strengthened Dee's theory that the girl was either a Templar or a Seeker. Women _**could**_ become chevaliers in the empire, but the old guard nobles still frowned on such advancement. The Templars were a bit more open, anyone with the will and strength to hold a sword was welcome.

That does not mean that she is here to spy on you, her conscience chided, she may be exactly what she says she is.

True, but given Leliana's warnings what Dee had heard from passing Templars during the last two weeks…

She decided to err on the side of caution.

Their conversation quickly turned to the chantry, its direction in recent years. Dee did her best to keep her answers neutral, polite and lacking any hint of choosing Justinia's ways over past policies. Sister Amelia was far more open.

She lionized Beatrix III, the previous Divine, speaking openly of how well things functioned before her death a few years back. She viewed Divine Justinia with caution, admitting she was not sure that change simply for the sake of change was a good idea.

"She has a brave heart, our beloved Justinia," Amelia said.

"Yes, she does," Dee agreed.

"She just needs to learn to slow down, trust her advisors. They served Beatrix well; Her Perfection could benefit much from their counsel."

Dee nodded, yet her thoughts were going in a different direction.

Amelia's opinion was not new, or unheard of. Many of the old guard looked at Beatrix III's rule as "the good old days," the truth was far more complicated.

Divine Beatrix had spent her last decade on the Sunburst throne in a state of senility. Her failing health had forced her advisors to step up and take more and more power for themselves. What had started out as merely aid for the Divine had grown as her advisors developed a taste for the power they were forced to wield. The Templars had grown very powerful during Beatrix's reign. Lord Commander's had had more say over their charges, especially the Circle of Magi. Many Templars began to see the Circles not as wards, but as a threat, dangerous prisoners that needed to be controlled, contained, or destroyed. Normally it would have fallen to the Divine and her priests to correct their knights, but given Beatrix's condition, things had continued with no intervention, the Templars continued to grow more powerful, while the Circles chaffed under their "protector's" care.

Then Beatrix had finally gone to the Maker's side, and Justinia had taken the Sunburst throne.

That is when the strife had begun.

Justinia V was not a figure head, nor a puppet. She began sending down edicts to reclaim what had been trusted to others during her predecessor's time, reestablishing her authority over both the chantry and the Templars.

There were many Templars who did not like that.

If Dee had ever doubted that, her travels with Reaper had opened her eyes. There were Templars that no longer looked to the chantry for guidance, they viewed what had come to pass under Beatrix as a natural evolution of the chantry, that the Templars deserved a greater voice in how things were done. Some of these Templars went even farther, establishing links with criminals, smuggling lyrium, and using it to gain greater sway over their fellow knights.

These…criminals thought that the chantry should merely be the figure head of the Templar order. That the Divine had no right to check the power that they wielded, wielded and did so better than some mere woman in Val Royeaux ever could.

These were type of men that Reaper had seen executed. Dee had heard the charges, and agreed with her knight's assessment. Those men were dangerous.

Now those who shared their views were starting to see Reaper as dangerous.

Dee never discussed this with Sister Amelia; she had smiled and listened, nodding where appropriate.

When their talk turned to Reaper, the other sister simply asked what Dee thought of him, if he was a man of great faith or simply a man interested in his own advancement. Dee spoke honestly, but once again carefully. Was Reaper a man of faith? Yes. Did he look for advancement? Perhaps one day, as the Maker willed.

"I see," Sister Amelia said, her voice revealing nothing of what she might be thinking.

That response alone was enough to prove that the other woman was not some mere chantry acolyte. When most of her fellow sisters heard about Dee's relationship with Reaper their minds went to more…romantic places. They thought that Dee and Reaper's journey was some glorious adventure, that they were slaying monsters by day, and enjoying steamy pleasures by night.

The suggestion made Dee role her eyes and blush slightly.

 _She had taken vows, such nights were impossible, and besides, Reaper was too much of a gentleman to take such advantage…_

 _...Perhaps he was too much of a gentleman_ , that dark corner of her mind suggested.

Dee did her best to ignore such thoughts.

Amelia's next question turned to Dee herself. What was her life like before the chantry? Had she been born blind? How long had she served the chantry? Was she happy in her position? Where did she see herself in ten years?

The mention of "seeing" herself made Dee chuckle, and caused Sister Amelia a brief moment of awkwardness.

The blind sister savored it.

In response to the question she informed the girl that she could "see" herself ascending to the rank of Mother. Perhaps even head a small chantry one day. If it was the Maker's will, she would not mind a post in the Grand Cathedral, but she doubted that a blind woman could ascend to such a height.

"You might be surprised," the other woman informed her, "With the right friends, you could go far."

Dee shrugged.

She supposed that was true.

It was then that Amelia asked of Haven, of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Dee had served their briefly under Leliana and had spoken of the pride she felt in that service.

"Did you ever think to try it?" the other woman asked.

Dee tilted her head.

"Try what?"

"The ashes?" the girl added, "I've heard that the ashes of holy Andraste can heal many ailments."

Amelia paused.

"Did you ever think of trying them...to use the ashes to heal your eyes?"

Dee frowned.

"I thought of it," She admitted, "my mentor even said that we might make that journey together one day."

"One day," Amelia said the amusement in her voice clear as any bright light.

Anger flickered in Dee's breast.

"Yes," she said coolly.

Her hands clenched the top of her cane, clenched so tightly she feared the smooth wood might crack.

Yet, she held her temper in check.

"One day."

"I'm surprised your mentor would make you wait. You seem devoted to her."

"I am," Dee said, "But…you…you do bring up a valid point."

The other woman chuckled.

"I've been known to do that," she admitted.

Another pause.

"If you will excuse me, Sister Daelle, I must be off; it has been good speaking with you..."

Dee's smile returned, but a bit more brittle than before.

"It has been my pleasure," she said, "I enjoy speaking with new people."

"We shall speak again," the woman promised, "I'm certain of it."

"Until then," Dee said with a nod, "May the many blessings of the Maker and his bride be upon you."

"And you, sister," she said.

Dee listened to the clack of boots as Sister Amelia made her way down the path. She did not stop smiling until the girl was out of earshot.

Dee's expression turned cold.

Had she had any doubt that she was being evaluated, that last question erased it.

She had not learned of the ashes of Andraste until almost three years into her training. Leliana had not wished to fill her with unreasonable hope. Had she knew of the ashes in the first year she would have insisted that she and Leliana make the journey. She would have _**demanded**_ it; it might have even caused a break between them. She had been an extremely angry young girl back then.

That anger remained, but now she had a new direction for it.

Now it was directed at the Divine's enemies, at the enemies of the chantry…

…People that would try and manipulate her for their own ends.

It had taken time, but she had grown content with her lot in life. She had lost her sight, yes, but it was a condition she had learned to live with. She had no desire to go running all over Thedas looking to regain what had been the Maker's will that she had lost.

The ashes were _**not**_ some common curative. They were a holy relic, if everyone sought them out for every little ailment then soon there would be none left.

They were meant for greater things than restoring the sight of a mere girl, of a humble servant of the chantry.

She had come to accept her blindness long ago.

The fact that the Divine's critics would throw that in her face angered her.

Did they think offering her a high position in the chantry would make her turn on the Divine and Leliana? Did they think her so foolish to burn every bridge she had made since Denerim, and all because of the promises of some ambitious and mysterious benefactor?

She was blind, but _**not**_ that blind.

She did not think so.

She heard the sound of footsteps, she turned towards them.

Had Sister Amelia returned for another "chat." Or was this someone else come to sway her to their side.

"Hello?" she said politely.

The footsteps stopped before her. They were heavy steps, not a sister then, but a man, a man used to the weight of armor.

"You ready to get out of here, Dee?" a familiar voice said.

Her smile blossomed to a full-blown happy grin.

Thank the Maker!

Reaper had finally returned.


	6. Charter

**Chapter 6: Charter**

"Werewolf?"

Reaper could only watch as the elven agent nodded grimly.

"Werewolf," she answered.

The paladin's brow furrowed.

One of the more prolific monsters that still haunted Thedas, even more so here in Ferelden, the beasts even held a place in Ferelden song and literature. There was hardly a child alive who had not heard the tale of _Dane and the Werewolf_. Of course this would be no child's tale; werewolves _**were**_ real, cursed souls with the savagery of hungry beasts, quite real and quite dangerous, once they had even threatened to overrun all of Ferelden. In ages past there had been a plague of the monsters that had threatened the entire south, only the bravery of the knights and local lords that protected these lands had held that evil in check, finally driving it back into the deep forests. The monsters numbers had dwindled over the years, yet still they remained, passing on their curse to new generations, causing even more harm.

Now, it fell to him to put a stop to this evil.

Reaper nodded grimly.

This would be the first time that he confronted such a creature. Yet with the Maker's blessing, and his own skill, he would prevail.

"I think it is over there."

Dee's words got his attention; both Reaper and Charter almost drew their blades.

 _Here,_ he thought, _how could…?_

He glanced around the small tavern; he saw nothing except for a pair of merchants gossiping at the bar, and a nervous looking dwarf, counting his coin purse in the far shadowy corner.

He saw no threat.

Charter kept her hand on her dagger, her elven eyes scanning the room.

"Where is what sister?" Leliana's agent asked.

"There," she said pointing.

Both Reaper and Charter turned their heads.

A few feet from their table lay an irritable looking old hound, its large front paw pinning the bone it was gnawing on, every time some walked by, the animal would growl menacingly. It had not moved since they had arrived, and from the way the staff was acting, Reaper guessed that the animal would not move unless forced.

He looked back at his partner; she had an amused smile on her face.

"I hear growling, I can't say that it is a wolf but…

She tilted her head towards charter.

"I must say Charter; I've never known you to speak in such a beastly manner. "There wolf?" Where wolf? How would we know?"

Dee shook her head.

"It is not so hard to use complete sentences."

Reaper rolled his eyes, he got the joke. It was a weak one, but still…

Charter remained clueless.

"Huh?" she said.

Reaper snorted with amusement, he could not help it.

Leliana had not picked the girl for her sense of humor.

"Dee? Really?" he said, "Must you?"

The sister laughed.

"The road has been long, my knight," she told, "Surely you would not deny me amusement when I can find it?"

The Paladin shook his head. In spite of himself, he smiled.

Trust Dee to find a bit of humor before their next mission.

Gallows humor perhaps, but that was the sister's way.

Everything she had lost everything she had endured.

If she did not laugh she might have cried.

Charter gave them both a cool look, a look that took away Reaper's amusement. She cleared her throat loudly so that Dee would also know that she was not amused. The blind sister's smile faded, she was suddenly all business.

The elf nodded, pleased that they were back on task.

Charter was not one to joke around, but that was why she had risen so quickly in the Nightingale's service.

She understood what was being asked of them.

A werewolf was nothing to make light of.

"Now that we have gotten all the silliness out of our systems," the agent said grimly, "May we please return to the job at hand?"

"Yes," Reaper said, loud enough so that Dee could hear him.

There would be time for humor late, for now, they had work to do.

The Nightingale's business

IOI

Reaper and Dee had left the Grand Cathedral without anyone's by or leave. Leliana had arranged for them to accompany a group of traders out of the empire and back into Ferelden. The Nightingale had not wanted to give the Lord Seeker or the Templars a chance to decide that the two should be kept where they could be dealt with quickly if the need arose.

Both Sister Leliana and the Divine seemed to think that a storm was on the horizon, and neither had desired to see Reaper and his partner caught up in that storm.

"You will follow us as far as Redcliffe village," the Fereldan born merchant informed the two, "that is what that sister paid us for."

Reaper had nodded, grateful for the chance to travel with others. He trusted that the Nightingale had checked these men out before making any offer.

There was safety in numbers, and he welcomed the chance to not have to stand watch as often as he would have if he and Dee were travelling alone.

Though he had worried a bit about Dee's safety, a trade caravan was a rough lot, and he feared that they might try to take advantage of his companion.

Once again she surprised him.

She spoke openly with the traders; there rough speech only seemed to inspire her to let her hair down more than he had ever seen. She seemed more comfortable with them than she did her fellow sisters back in the Grand Cathedral. She was normally so reserved so guarded; here she seemed almost at peace. She even sought out the company of the dwarves that were acting as guards for the caravan, likely the hardest men they were travelling with. He had watched with amusement as she had taken an offered flask of dwarven ale and downed a swig with barely a twitch. Then she had smiled, belched loudly, and apologized in a most a lady-like manner.

The warriors were impressed. Reaper included.

After that the hardened dwarven guards had respected the girl they called "little sister."

Reaper had asked her about that later, why she seemed so relaxed. She had merely smiled and shrugged.

"I grew up around traders and trade caravans, "She reminded him, "My mother was a trader, and my grandfather and great grandfather before him. They did much business in Orzammar, or rather in the market outside Orzammar."

Dee chuckled.

"I had my first taste of dwarven ale when I was one and ten. It was a gift from a dwarven spice trader. Mother warned me but I didn't listen. I could handle it. I took a single sip and threw up on the fire. My mother laughed herself to tears, she…

She paused, the smile faltered.

Reaper cursed under his breath.

He knew Dee's mother had been lost during the siege of Denerim, the same siege that had taken her eyes.

He doubted she needed to be reminded of that.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, he had not wished to bring up any bad memories.

"Why?" Dee asked, "I miss my mother. I always will, but that does not mean that I want to forget her, the times we shared."

Dee sighed.

"I wish we could have had more time, though," she murmured, "I was almost a woman grown when the Blight started. I had just started to rebel against her. I was four and ten and I knew everything. We quarreled often."

The blind girl shook her head.

"It would have been nice to have been able apologize, let her know that no matter what I said…that I…I still loved her."

"You were her child," he said, "I'm sure she understood."

Her expression turned thoughtful.

"I hope so."

They did not speak much about the past after that. The traders moved quickly through Orlais. Every time they stopped they were greeted by disturbing tales form throughout the empire.

A mage had tried to assassinate Divine Justinia. The elves were rioting in Halamshiral. Dalish clans were attacking settlements in the Emerald Graves. The Empress had fled the capital, and Grand Duke Gaspard's men were arresting members of the royal court as they tried to flee to their homes in the provinces.

Reaper did not know if half those stories were true, what he did know is that the caravan seemed to be avoiding any settlement large enough to have a chantry, large enough to have a Templar garrison.

He wondered if that was under the Nightingale's orders too. Did she wish to hide him and Dee from Templar eyes?

He could not say for sure.

Dee had told him about her meeting with "Sister" Amelia. She told him her theory about the woman being either a Seeker or Templar.

"What do you think it means?" she asked him.

"I'm just a soldier," he said, "I have no head for politics."

She gave him knowing smirk.

"That is bullshit," she said, "Sister Leliana would never have recruited you if you were all blade and no brain."

Reaper chuckled.

"Thanks, I think."

"Don't mention it."

She frowned and placed a hand on his arm.

"Seriously though, what do you think?"

He sighed.

"I think we have caught the attention of some powerful people. People that think we might be able to give them access to the Divine's inner circle."

Reaper shook his head.

"They may try to strike at the Divine through us, recruit us into their plans."

The blind girl frowned; he could almost imagine the wheels turning in her head.

Leliana had found her at the weakest point of her life, took her in, gave her purpose.

It was unlikely that they would be able to sway Dee from her side.

"So… they want to recruit us?"

"Yes," he said, "Recruit us, or try to kill us if they think we won't go over to their side."

She tilted her head.

Dee was no fool. She had heard the same rumors he had during their time in Val Royeaux, had faced the same dangers on the road.

She knew how much the Templars had changed, how much the chantry was changing.

"Has it truly gone so far," she said, "We're all servants of the chantry are we not?"

"That depends on your definition of servant," he said.

Her frown deepened, he felt her shudder.

He reached out and put a reassuring hand on hers.

"Whatever happens," he promised, "We will face it together."

Her smile returned.

"We will," she agreed, "And we will defeat it."

He nodded inspired by her confidence.

"Yes," he repeated.

"We will."

A few days later they crossed into Ferelden without incident.

They made their way to the tavern in Redcliffe village; it was there that charter was waiting for them.

Leliana had heard from one of her agents in the Brecilian forest.

She had a mission for them.

IOI

"There had been rumors for years about werewolves sill haunting the Brecilian Forest," Charter informed them, "We know that the Hero of Ferelden dealt with a large pack of the creatures almost ten years ago, and since that time, only rumors have remained."

"What changed," Reaper asked her.

"Several things," the elf said "recently."

"Since the Blight ended, the villages around the Brecilian have suffered animal attacks on occasion. A cow here or a sheep there, reports of livestock being found torn to pieces and devoured, the wounds on those animals not matching any normal animal in the forest."

"Are they sure it is not simply a bear?" Dee asked, "I've heard the Brecilian forest is a place of mists, could they have mistaken a bear for a werewolf?"

"Possibly." Charter agreed, "The Nightingale does not think so however. She was with the warden when the curse was lifted, or so she says."

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

"You said these attacks have been going on for years," he said.

"Yes," Charter answered.

"So why send us in now, what has changed?"

The elf sighed.

A boy was killed a week ago, the son of a village mayor."

Charter shook her head.

"The boy was torn to pieces, there was a survivor, a witness there, the beast she described sounds like a werewolf."

Dee frowned.

"A witness?" she said.

"Yes."

"How did she survive?"

"The boy covered her escape; he stayed behind to fight the beast. She ran back to the village, her clothes torn and bloody, poor girl."

"May the Andraste take the poor boy into her arms," Dee said lowering her head in prayer.

"May he find his way to the Maker's side."

"Indeed," Charter said, though her attention was all on Reaper.

"You will want to talk to the girl when you arrive," she said, "the agent that reported this to me was unable to find any trace of the beast in the woods around the village."

Reaper nodded.

That was the logical place to start.

"Tell me about the witness?" he said, "Was the girl and he…?"

"Nothing like that," Charter said, "She was the boy's sister, his younger sister. It is their father that approached the chantry for help. Losing his heir to such a beast…"

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

"What do the local Templars think?" he asked.

"Nothing," Charter said.

That got both the paladin's and the sister's attention.

"The Templars are not involved?" Dee asked.

"No."

"Did they send anyone to investigate?" Reaper asked, "A werewolf attack would fall within the Templar mandate."

"True," the elf agreed, "but that does not change the fact that no Templars have been assigned to the case."

Reaper's brow furrowed.

What was this now?

"Do we know what is going on?"

"Word is that the Knight-Commander in Kinloch Hold has ordered the full order to assemble there. We do not know the reason yet, but we are looking into it."

Reaper leaned back in his chair, a scowl on his face.

The order was pulling back? Gathering their forces, why?

Had there been some problem at the Ferelden Circle? They had heard no hint of that on their journey.

It was something worth looking into, after they finished in the Brecilian of course.

"The Nightingale has other agents investigating the Templars movements," Charter assured them, "It does not change the fact that a person has been murdered by a monster, a monster that common soldiers are not equipped to deal with.

Charter looked right at Reaper.

"This is why you were chosen Ser Knight. Will you deal with this matter?"

Reaper felt the holy fires that still burned within him starting to grow.

His duty was never clearer.

If the Templars had abandoned their post, it now fell to them to make sure the people were still protected from the forces of darkness. He had pledged himself to the Divine, to seeing this mission carried out.

He could not refuse.

"Dee and I will make for the village tomorrow," he promised Charter,"We will see to this matter, and perhaps have a wolf's pelt for the Nightingale when this is all over."

Dee nodded.

"I will need to purchase some essence of silverite," she said, "I've heard it is effective in dealing with such beasts, and the wounds they cause."

"It could not hurt," the elf said rising, "The Nightingale says that good steel will work just as well as silver, but why take chances.

She gave the two one final look.

"Be careful both of you," she advised, "This creature has managed to avoid detection for almost ten years. It is likely far more cunning than most such monsters."

"We will be careful," Reaper promised, "Keep an eye on the Templars for us, if they would turn away from a hunt like this, they must have a very good reason."

He smiled coldly.

"I would like to hear it."

"I will look into it," Charter promised, "In the meantime good luck, and may the Maker watch over you both."

"May he watch over us all," Dee said.

Reaper leaned back in his chair.

It was going to strange, not to have to worry about the Templars on this mission. Of course, he could not help but wonder what was really going on.

If the Templars did not consider this important, then what was?

What had drawn the order to abandon its post and gather at Kinloch Hold?

Whatever it was he did not like it.

Changes were coming, the Lord Seeker had said. Was this move the first of such changes? If it was he did not like it.

He did not like it one bit.


	7. Tanda

**Chapter 7: Tanda**

"I am called Reaper, at my side is Sister Daelle," the paladin called out to the gathering crowd, his expression somber and determined.

"We have come…to deliver you from evil."

The small village of Forest's End rose up around them, not that it was much of a village truth be told, a two story in for travelers stopping before making the final push to Gwaren, a smithy to see the needs of any wagon or weapon tended to, a single tower house for the mayor, a seat that was more of a glorified guard tower than an actual keep, whose eight foot wall would do little to keep out anything more than woodland beasts if trouble should come. The Chantry itself was so small it might have been considered more of a shire that an actual house of worship. Yet, Reaper was not fazed.

It was in places like this that he did his best work, and had been doing so for the last year.

He would save these people from the monster that haunted them.

The people of Forest's End, perhaps only thirty or forty looked upon him skeptically. Men snorted while several women shook their heads or clung their babes tighter to their breasts. It was a look the paladin had seen before in the eyes of other villager and townsfolk. They had begged the chantry for help, expecting a full company of Templars and a Seeker of Truth in toe. What they got was a single knight and a blind sister smiling softly at his side.

It was now up to him to show them that he was indeed the solution to their problem.

IOI

Before coming to the square and announcing their presence official, the two had arrived quietly as the sun had first begun to peek over the trees. Charter had given them a letter of introduction to present to the Lord Mayor, Ser Sylas Forrester, to prove that they were who they said they were. They had entered the walls of the tower house and were immediately taken to the main hall. Ser Sylas however was indisposed; they had been brought before the man's daughter the Lady Tanda Forrester. A pretty thing, a girl of sixteen or seventeen, the lady Tanda was tall with fiery strawberry blonde hair. Her gown spoke more of a city dweller than that of a small lord. She had an easy smile that never touched her eyes and a sharp tongue that Reaper had already felt once already.

"I ask for help from the chantry and they send me you," she had hissed, "Is this some kind of jest. We live under threat from a monster! It must be killed before anyone else dies…"

She gave the paladin an icy look.

"No one is safe as long as that monster's head is still attached to its neck."

Reaper stood his ground, letting silence speak for him. He was used to the bluster of nobles; he could take a bit of a tongue lashing.

He preferred to let his actions speak for him.

Dee was the more _verbal_ of the pair.

"Reaper will do what he must to save you all, Milady," Dee had said, her smile showing the confidence of many a previous victory.

"You can trust him. He will bring the Maker's justice for your brother."

Lady Tanda sneered at that, though she said not a word Reaper could guess what she was thinking.

 _If the knight needs some blind priest to defend him, then we are all lost._

"I will investigate this matter Milady," he promised, "I will discover the monster's location, and deal with it accordingly.

The Lady gave him an acidic smile.

"Fortunately for you, Ser knight, no investigation is necessary. We already know the name the beast uses, when he is not murdering noble boys of course."

Reaper gave her an arched look. This had not been in Charter's report or the Nightingale's letter.

"Name the beast," he said.

"He calls himself Grey Eyes, Wulfe Grey Eyes, if you can believe the monster's arrogance." the Lady said, her hand going to the scarf at her neck, "He is hunter, lives in the Brecilian forest. He comes to the village often to trade in meat and furs."

The girl's expression turned thoughtful.

"Daddy always knew he was trouble, asked him to leave village more than once, yet Grey Eyes was stubborn. He would always return, If he was welcome or not."

The Paladin considered that. He knew a little of the Brecilian Forest, and the curse that had once haunted it. Sister Leliana had passed on what she knew from her travels during the Blight. Zathrian's Vengeance, she had called it. The Nightingale believed that the curse had ended but…such evil rarely ends without a fight, especially after it had held sway for so long.

If an echo of the foul curse still remained, he would do what he could to see it stamped out.

That was his task, Dee immediately set to hers, not just healing him when the fighting was done, but gathering information that fight.

She was never above asking questions, as the Lord Mayor's daughter found out.

"What makes you think that this hunter is the werewolf?" Dee inquired, her head tilted curiously.

The Lady shot her a cold look, a look that would likely turn a person's knees to jelly, a look wasted on Dee since she could not see it.

"Isn't it enough that I named him?" she said, "With my brother's death the safety of this village falls to me?"

 _If only it was that easy,_ Reaper thought to himself. _A chantry Templar might march into the unknown on the word of a single noble, but he preferred to have a bit more evidence before unsheathing his blade._

He _**would**_ investigate, but that did not mean he would do what he could to put the young woman at ease before he began.

"I'm sure you want what is best for your people," Reaper said trying to calm her.

Tanda lowered her head, she sniffled dramatically.

Grey Eyes was always trying to impress Daddy," the girl continued, "Coming here with bear pelts and trinkets he had found in the ruins in the deep forest."

The Lady shook her head.

"My brother Trystan did not trust him. They were of an age and quarreled often. He finally grew tired of Grey Eyes sniffing around the village, went into the woods to make sure he knew to never return…"

She blinked wiping away tears before they could fall.

"I…I followed him into the forest, tried to talk him out of confronting Grey Eyes alone. My brother was not the warrior he thought he was. He…I…I saw the beast leap out from the trees, saw it tear my poor brother apart. Trystan screamed for me to run, but as I did, I turned, and saw it watching me with those grey piercing eyes; I knew immediately who it was, and what needed to be done.

The girl's eyes flashed with anger.

"My brother was a fool," she spat, "Yet Daddy still chose him as his heir, I'm the eldest by a year, yet it was in Trystan that he placed his faith, and now he is dead, killed by that…that beast."

Reaper listened closely to the girl's rant, measuring what was being said.

Grief made people say many strange things, yet he sensed more anger that grief in the girl's words.

 _Interesting._

"I will see justice done," he promised.

Reaper glanced over at his partner. Dee was quite sharp when it came to figuring out people's emotions from both their words and the tone of their voice. Her expression remained guarded, her hands wrapped tight around the staff she used as a cane when they travelled.

For the moment, he could not guess what she might be thinking, what she might think of the tale they were hearing.

He would need to speak with her more before he struck out into the forest.

"Can you describe this hunter?" Dee asked the noble, "If Reaper is to…deal with him…"

Lady Tanda's hand went to her neck again as she described the hunter, a handsome lad, she said, handsome and stocky, yet unkept…wild-looking, between eighteen and twenty years old.

"It is his eyes that you will know him by," she added, "Grey as the sky before a storm, eyes that seem to look into your very soul, a monster's eyes."

"You seem to know him quite well," Dee added, "Did the two of you ever speak? Were you close?"

Any grief faded with Dee's suggestion, fury blossomed in Lady Tanda's eyes

If looks could kill, the young sister would have lain dead upon the floor at that moment.

She raised her hand, almost as if she was about to strike the blind girl.

Reaper stood in front of her, just in case. As the lady' four bodyguards reached for their weapons.

This could turn bad quickly Reaper realized.

Lady Tanda hissed with fury.

" _How dare you,"_ she spat, "That…that animal… **that beast!** He **disgusts** me, he has **always** disgusted me! I…should have you flogged for making such a suggestion!"

If Dee feared the other girl she did not show it.

"I meant no offense, she said with a shrug, "I'm merely trying to understand what happened here, the more Reaper and I understand, the quicker we can deal with the problem, and you good people can get back to the rest of your lives.

The noble was still staring daggers at blind girl, but finally she let out a hissing deep breath, calming the fires within.

She motioned for her defenders to stand down. Reaper did not relax however until all hands drifted away from the swords and knives at the men's waists.

A wonderful start to this mission he thought.

 _Such a wonderful start indeed._

"He killed my brother," she said coldly, "He turned into a beast and ripped him to pieces. Now you will deliver his head to me, that is why you are here, is it not?

Reaper gave her a curt nod. Though is reason for being here had more to do with the Nightingale's orders than any noble girl's command.

He did not say anything about that though.

He had no desire to start an argument.

After their meeting, Lady Tanda called a meeting in the town square; to let the people know what was being done to bring her brother's killer to justice.

Both the paladin and the sister stood before the people, while Tanda Forrester told her village what had occurred.

Reaper listened to her story, still unsure what to make of it. Lady Tanda almost insisted that it was her will alone that drew Reaper here, and that the people could expect more such decisive action from her until her father reemerge from seclusion.

She sounds more like a Denerim lordling than a landed knight's daughter, he thought, far too ambitious for such a small settlement.

The Lady was far different than what Reaper had expected. Forest's End was a simple place whose residence were simple people. The Lady Tanda looked far from them.

She now stood at their side.

"My good friends and neighbors," she called out to the small crowd. "This man arrives not only with the Blessing of our own Mother Alysse, but in the name of the Divine as well."

She gave them all a wide happy smile.

"Our deliverance has come, and with it justice for my poor brother.

Cheers rang out, showing that the slain boy was not without people who cared for him here.

The Lady Tanda smiled, and embraced Reaper. He accepted it for what it was, and act to win over the crowd.

He did not have any trouble hearing the lady's voice when she whispered in his ear, whispered in a voice not meant for the people of the village.

"Do not return until you have that animal's head," she said, "Consider this…a warning."

Reaper nodded grimly.

As she stepped away, the girl grinned and raised his hand to the crowd, who only cheered loudly, happy to have someone here to deliver them from evil.

Reaper said nothing.

He knew what was expected of him.

Do not return without that animal's head.

He had heard her words.

Now he had to do what needed to be done. Find the werewolf…

…and get to the bottom of this.

IOI

The introduction to the people ended, and Reaper and Dee found themselves once again in a small room inside a tavern. The knight girding himself for battle, while Dee made sure she had what she needed ready to patch him up upon his return.

She stood before her open bag, making sure all her ointments, bandages, and poultices were where she would need them.

The two of them had already walked off the room together, he showed her where everything was, the bed, the desk. He made sure that nothing was in her way, so that she would not trip and fall if she needed to get something quickly.

It was an old dance for them now, she hated to admit it, but she enjoyed the ritual of it after so many miles during their journey, her hand on his shoulder as she counted the steps.

Two steps to the bed turn right three steps to the desk, turn left, two steps to the window.

Once she was sure she had mental picture of the room inside her head, he prepared to begin his hunt, she listened as he worked, checking his weapons and armor, filling his small pouch with whatever he needed while on the hunt.

He would need to stop at the site where the boy died first, he informed her, get an idea of what had happened. One of the villagers had agreed to guide him that far, but said that he was on his own when he went deeper into the forest.

"Do you expect any trouble on the way?" she asked.

"The Brecilian is not a gentle place Dee," he reminded her. "I suspect this hunter I seek is not the only foe I may face. Leliana's letter spoke of Sylvans, possessed trees that lash out if disturbed, Of Dalish hunters, Dalish that are not overly fond of humans."

She heard Reaper sigh.

"I'll need to be careful, but a single person moving through the woods may go unnoticed."

She nodded.

"I suppose that makes sense," she said.

"While I'm gone, I want you to remain here."

"Don't I always," she laughed.

"Not just in the tavern, in **this** room. I will speak with the local mother about having your meals brought here. I don't want you wandering the village without escort."

Something in his voice made her frown, her hands drifted away from her bag of supplies.

"You're worried," she said.

"Yes."

"About what?" she asked.

She heard him moving closer to her, she felt his hands on her shoulders, firm, yet gentle. As always she drank in the scent of him, that warrior smell of leather and oil, the maleness that she came to identify as Reaper.

She tried not to let him know the effect it had on her, how much she sought that touch, that closeness.

She did not wish to fog their relationship, especially not before he left on the hunt.

He would have enough to worry about in the Forest.

She did not wish to distract him now.

Yet, he was so close.

So very close.

She leaned in; she could hear his breathing, feel it on her forehead.

Her body warmed under his touch.

"I…I don't know," he said, "But I don't trust Lady Tanda. I think it best that you avoid her while I'm gone."

Dee shrugged.

"She seems a bit of a brat, I'll give you that, and from her reaction when I asked her about this Grey Eyes person, I suspect that she knows more about this hunter than what she is telling, but…"

"But nothing," he said cutting her off, "You are staying here, out of sight, end of story."

Dee's eyes narrowed, she might not be able to see, but that did not mean that he could shut her up like some fragile doll.

"I can take care of myself you know," she reminded him.

"I don't doubt that, but I'll be able to focus more on what needs to be done if I'm sure you are here and not anywhere near the Lady and her tower."

Dee's brow furrowed with thought.

"You think that this is about more than just her brother? You think she might be hiding something?"

"Maybe," he said, "Perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps she just grieving for her brother, angry at his killer, maybe she is just another noble brat, as you said, but if she is not, and more is going on here than what we can see…"

She pursed her lips, grasping what it was he was saying.

The Lady had expected Templars to come and do her bidding without any forethought. Had the Templars stationed here had not left that is likely what would have happened. They would have scoured the wood and killed this hunter without really caring had he done what she said or not. Her partner was not the type of man to take things entirely at face value, he would investigate, reach his own conclusions.

A noble with something to hide may not like that.

Dee reached up, and found Reaper's face; she could feel the stubble on his chin, the strong jaw and small rounded nose.

Though she had never seen his face, she had built a mental picture in his head, that picture had grown dear to her in the last few months, as dear as the sound of his voice.

"Be careful today," she murmured, "Come back safe."

He took her hands in his, callused finger stroked circles of warmth into her palms.

"I will," he promised, "Remember what I said and…"

"Stay here, and out of sight of the Lady…" they said in unison.

He chuckled, it was amazing that they did that sometimes, say the same things.

They had gotten to know each other well over the last few months.

"Be safe," she repeated, "And Maker watch over you."

She felt his hand reach up, and brush a lock of blonde hair over her left ear.

She smiled at the simple gesture.

"May he watch over us both," Reaper said slipping away from her.

She heard the door open.

"I'll return when the job is done," he promised.

The door closed again, and his footsteps receded down the hall.

Dee sighed and went back to her work,

Reaper was gone again, and now…

She would wait.


	8. The Thug

**Chapter 8: The Thug**

"Once you leave this place know that you will be lied to. The threats you shall face, the enemies you will encounter will not see you as a beacon of hope or a light against the darkness. They will see you as a threat, or an opportunity to serve their own ends."

It was with those words that Sister Leliana had first set Reaper out on his mission, it was with those words that he realized that the road she had set him on was no simple path, but a twisting, turning path shrouded by lies and deceptions.

If he was to survive, it was necessary that he not take anything at face value. That lesson had been reinforced over the last year by the corrupted Templars that he had sent to the Maker for judgment. Those deaths did not weigh on his conscience; he had seen through those men and their lies and dealt with them accordingly.

He trusted few outside of himself and Dee. His dealings with the powerful and the corrupt had left him jaded, but at the same time, it had kept both him and his partner alive, and wasn't that the true measure of victory?

A victor left alive.

It was with this lesson in mind that the paladin made his way to the place where Trystan Forester had been slain. His guide a simple townsman that journeyed into the forest to gather mushrooms and herbs from time to time, but never out of sight of the edge of the wood. It had been days since the body had first been discovered, and heavy rains had erased much of the evidence that could tell him what had happened when the young noble had come across a monster of legend on his journey into the wood.

Most of the evidence was gone, he realized, most…but not all.

The first thing he noticed was how thin the veil was here. He could feel the violence that had taken place here, the savagery drawing spirits and demons close to this world, close enough to peer upon what had happened.

Reaper could almost taste the fury here. The air at the murder site almost seemed to shimmer with rage. The trees were thin here, giving him a good view of the path back to the village, a steep incline on his right led to an almost twenty foot drop off the path and into a patch of wicked looking thorn bushes.

He kneeled down, looking over the muddy path, a lot of people had come here when the body had been found, and there were many footprints, wheel marks from the cart that brought the slain boy home. Between that and the rain, it was hard to tell what had happened when the boy was attacked, what had come after muddied the issue, making what had happened almost unclear.

What was not unclear were the footprints of a large creature moving off to the south east. The prints resembled a dog, but were too large even for a Ferelden Mabari, much less a common wolf.

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

At least he could say that there _**was**_ a beast here. Whether it was a werewolf or not, he could not say, not yet…

"It was here that we found the body Milord," his guide informed him, "Torn to shreds poor Lord Trystan was , his blood soaking the grass, bit and pieces of 'im were in the trees leading off towards the ruins in the woods."

The man shook his head.

"Horrible way to die, Milord, simply horrible."

Reaper ran his fingers over one of the trees; he thought he could make out speckles of blood on the bark. In his mind he tried to visualize what had happened here. If what his guide was saying was true, this attack was more than a beast feasting on a kill…

Reaper shivered.

This attack had not been about food, he could feel the fury in the air, and if there was any doubt of that one only had to see how far the blood had splattered from the attack.

This was not feeding; this was rage, pure, black rage.

"Were you the one that found the body?" the paladin inquired.

"I was Milord, me, and Deke, and Lil' Tate. We found Lord Trystan here, just like Lady Tanda said we would."

"Did you go out that very night or in the morning?" Reaper asked.

"The morning, ser," his guide answered quickly, "t'was safer that way. We didn't want to fall off that ledge in the dark."

Reaper went to the ledge the man mentioned, looked down the long drop into the bushes below.

"Did you find Lord Forester's sword?"

"We did ser," the man said nodding, "Still in its sheath it was."

Reaper's brow furrowed.

 _The sword was still in its sheath? Odd._

Hadn't Lady Tanda said her brother shouted for her to run, that he chose to hold the beast off while she escaped?

 _How had he fought_ _ **without**_ _his sword?_

"Did he have a dagger on him?"

"We found it on his belt milord. The beast must have surprised him ser. Lord Trystan would not have fallen without a fight."

"Hm," Reaper murmured his eyes roving over the murder scene, the thin trees…the drop off…

"The werewolf must have ambushed him," he murmured to himself.

Yet as he looked around he could not find a good ambush site. The drop off was too steep unless the beast had leapt out of the thorn bushes far below, but that did not seem likely to the paladin. As for hiding behind a tree, none were wide enough or numerous to hide a large creature as it lay in wait to attack.

"What was the weather like the night of the attack?"

"The Brecilian is a misty place, ser," his guide reminded him.

"Misty enough to blind a man?" he asked.

"Couldn't say Milord, Lady Tanda didn't say anything about that."

Reaper frowned as stared off to the east; there were signs of something large passing through, and at great speed, if the werewolf had retreated deeper into the forest…?

"Did you know the hunter Grey Eyes?" he asked the man.

"Never spoke to him milord," the man confessed, "Seen him around a few times though. Usually coming out of the tower house, the Lord Mayor's house I mean. Lord Trystan and Lady Tanda both traded with him. I know that much."

"Was lady Tanda close with the hunter?"

"I…I can't really say, Milord."

"What about the boy Trystan?"

"Can't say milord."

Reaper looked at the man, he looked…nervous, like this conversation had taken a turn that he did not want to take. It was cool under the trees. Yet to Reaper, it looked like the other man was sweating.

"Lord Trystan argued with the hunter." He said quickly.

Did you ever speak to lord Trystan?"

"No."

"Then how do you know that he argued with the hunter?"

"Lady Tanda told me, milord," he said quickly, "Said the hunter did not get along with Lord Trystan."

Reaper frowned.

He suspected that Tanda Forester had told that story to everyone in the village, loudly and often since her brother's death. Whether that was true, he could not say. The guide said they found the boy with his weapons sheathed, if that was true, then how did he hold off the monster while his sister escaped? If this was ambush, where had the werewolf waited when the noble came by, where would he have not been seen? Had the mists of the forest hid the creature? If he had attacked the boy from behind, how had Lady Forester had time to escape?

A lot of questions, he thought, and not many satisfactory answers.

He turned back to his guide.

"Why would Lord Trystan go out after dark to confront this hunter? Why not wait until morning?"

"Lord Trystan was always going off into the woods. Drove the Lord Mayor batty it did."

"Alone?"

"Lady Tanda went with him, often as not. Probably would not have been ah-feared of this place as most folk would be."

Reaper considered that.

"Did the young lord hunt?"

"Aye milord, his lady sister too, if you can believe it."

"Was he dressed for a hunt when you found him?"

"No milord, he was dressed in his town clothes, breeches and a silk vest I think. Ripped up they were, hard to tell, if you follow me."

The paladin considered that.

Both skilled hunters, brother and sister, a skilled hunter would not have gone into the woods unarmed…unarmored, Lady Tanda would have a bow or a dagger on her surely. Yet her brother had told her to run…?

Reaper once again tried to construct what had happened here.

Young Lord Forester did not fear these woods; perhaps that was why he would try to confront the hunter, even at night. Of course, if he expected any trouble, why had his weapons been sheathed? If the hunter **knew** he was coming, would the young lord not have prepared for that, would he not have had his sword drawn at least?

The more he tried to make sense of all this, the more sure he became that he was missing something. Young Lord Forester was clearly more skilled than his sister let on. Clearly a hunter would have realized he was being stalked by something, and he certainly would not have gone the forest without armor and his weapons drawn?

Reaper thanked his guide, and offered him a silver for his trouble. It would not be hard to follow the direction that the beast had fled. The trail left by the monster's flight seemed to be heading southeast. Both the villagers and Leliana's letter had said that there were old ruins to the south east, ruins that had once served as a lair for a pack of werewolves during the Blight.

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

It seems his path was clear.

He would follow the trail; see if it led to the ruins, and if it did.

Hopefully he would find some answers, answers…and the monster responsible for this…butchery.

Then it would be time for the sword, he thought grimly.

Then it would be time for the Maker's justice.

IOI

He did his best to remain silent as he pushed on towards his destination. The paladin's coal grey armor blending in with the lengthening shadows as the day drew on. The map he had been given since the ruins at the forest's heart was almost a two day journey into the wilderness.

He was making good time, despite the twisting nature of the paths he had discovered, some looked like they had been traveled recently, but he saw no signs of a large beast or anything that might hide such a monster.

The trail from the murder site had grown cold a short distance from where the body had been found. Reaper had tried to back track, find the path again, but it had simply vanished. The rains from the last few nights had erased any tracks that might have remained on the forest floor.

The paladin cursed under his breath.

He had lost the trail.

Or perhaps, it had never truly been there to begin with."

The thought brought a flicker of anger to the young knight's features. He could not escape the thought that he was being manipulated, that someone was toying with him. That the request to the chantry for aid was just a move in a larger game to hide something that Reaper could not see.

Like the corrupt Templars I saw hanged, Reaper thought angrily. Was Tanda Forester any different?

Was the Lord Seeker?

Was the Divine?

Reaper could not deny that his faith had been tested by Sister Leliana's missions. He had seen much, and it did little to silence the troubling thoughts his actions had brought.

Once people had looked up to the Templars order, even the mages that they watched over understood the order existed for their own good. Now it seemed that where ever he looked he saw only corruption in the ranks. Templar knights behaving more like hired thugs than warrior brothers, servants of the faith.

Being out in the wilderness, being alone with only his thoughts for company…

It forced the paladin to ask troubling questions about himself.

Is that all I am, he wondered, a thug in the service of the Divine and her Left Hand? Has politics completely swallowed faith? Am I simply a killing machine to further the Divine's ends? Is that all that Sister Leliana wants me to be?

Hard questions, he realized, and the answers would likely leave him maudlin, like the veteran of too many battles crying into his ale for his lost innocence.

Reaper could not claim that he was innocent. The fires may have taken his memory, but did they truly erase his sins. He knew little of his past before, only what Sister Leliana had told him, and that wasn't much.

"You are a clean slate now," Sister Nightingale had said when she first recruited him, "Whoever you were, that person is gone. It is up to you to decide who you will become. Through doing the Maker's work, his will, you will find you place again."

The Maker's will, he thought to himself, was that what he was doing, and why him? What made him so special?

The thought made him frown.

Dee said he was a good man, he doubted that sometimes. Would the Maker have taken away everything he was if he was a good man? Perhaps he had not been a good man, perhaps, during his time as a Templar, he had been a cold blooded bastard, the worst person ever to carry the sunburst shield?

Was that why he had been chosen, was this his penance for a life of hypocrisy, an evil life?

Dee would disagree, but then again, she was a bit bias, was she not? She had grown fond of him over the last few months, and if he was being truly honest, he had grown fond of her.

Let it go, his conscience chided, she is not for you, even if she was not wed to the chantry.

He sighed.

She could do so much better than you.

He felt the truth in that, even though he did not know where he had truly come from. He had read the reports, his past, but he had felt no familiarity in what he was reading.

The young man mentioned in those reports was a stranger to him. He felt no connection to that boy, his past.

Whoever he had been, that person was dead.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Reaper finally paused, he looked up into the sky, behind him the sun was starting to dip below the trees, it would be dark in another hour.

He would need to stop for the night, wait until morning then push on towards the ruins.

The thought did not please him.

He found himself wishing he had thought to bring a cloak, or a blanket. It felt like it was going to be a cold night and he dare not risk a fire.

He glanced around at his surroundings, he would likely need to belt himself into a tree for the night. It would be far safer than trying to sleep on the ground.

He had only just begun his search when he felt a small tingle on the back of his neck.

His old Templar senses awoke as the air seemed to change.

Reaper smiled slightly.

He sensed magic.

There was a mage nearby.

Most men who served the chantry would find this no reason to smile. Mages were dangerous after all, apostates even more so, still perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

Any mage who lived out here might have heard something about the hunter Wulfe Grey Eyes.

Perhaps the mage would be willing to share what he knew.

What he was sensing seemed to be coming from somewhere north of him.

Reaper abandoned his search for a tree to rest in and pushed on.

If his senses were to be believed, the mage was not far away.

The paladin was most eager to meet with him.


	9. The Guest

**Chapter 9: The Guest**

The morning had come far sooner than Sister Daelle would have preferred.

She had awoken before daybreak, before the first cock could crow with the morning sun. She had laid in bed for almost an hour, listening to the sounds of the world around her, the sounds of the country, and the small village where she found herself.

She had needed that time, the _stillness_ of it to regain her composure, and slow the pounding of her heart.

The nightmares that had plagued her since the siege of Denerim had returned again last night, and as she had on that day almost ten years ago, she once again awoke to a world of darkness. Panic and despair long controlled threatened to rise up again, to overwhelm her and leave her helpless. The last shadows of the nightmare faded slowly, the sky the color of blood, the hisses and snarls of the darkspawn, but above all, the roar of an explosion, a roar and a "truly" blinding flash.

In her dreams she could see…it might have been a welcome escape had the dreams not focus on the darkest moment of her life, her flight during the siege of Denerim, the loss of her mother…and her eyes.

At it always ended the same way, her eyes opening, opening into a world of darkness.

She lay there listening to her heart, taking deep breaths, pushing away the last cobwebs of sleep. Slowly, she regained control of herself. The world that she had made since that time came into focus, pushing away the fear of the past.

She blinked her unseeing eyes, and turned her head towards the window, she felt no warmth on her face, no sunlight streaming through the tiny tavern window. Morning was still a ways off she feared.

Dee sighed.

She knew that she would not be able to fall back asleep, not tonight, the part of her that was still that scared young girl would not risk seeing the darkspawn again, and so she would lay here and waited.

She waited for the coming of the dawn.

Dee could have called for help, sought out a glass of water, but she did not wish to wake the innkeeper.

She was a guest here, and she had no desire to inconvenience her host.

As she lay in bed she did her best to try to figure out why the nightmare had come again. It was never far away of course, it had haunted her many an eve over the last eight years or so. She had gone a long time without it, and thought she had finally made it through, that she had faced the past and moved on, yet for the third time in as many months, the nightmare returned.

She knew the reason of course, even though she did not want to admit it. She still remembered the two previous nights that she had dreamed of Denerim, and what had been happening when she had.

It was all Reaper's fault she realized, or rather him being gone on one of his hunts. Every time her knight left her alone, the nightmares came.

The thought made her frown.

Had she _truly_ grown so frail?

Did she seriously need him in her life to keep the shadows away?

 _Ridiculous,_ she thought, she was **no** pathetic waif, **no** damsel that needed to be saved. She had been trained by her mentor and patron to not be a victim, to not wait for some man to come and save her. She had been proud of that, that strength that Sister Leliana had fostered in her…

Now…it seemed so far away…that strength.

She covered her face with her hands and only just resisted the urge to scream.

 _Is this what desire did to a person?_

 _Is weakness all that it offered?_

She kicked the bedding off of her and sat up. Once again she found herself haunted by the idea that her mentor had set her on this journey with other motives in mind then her simply seeing to the paladin's injuries.

She loved Leliana, owed her so much, yet she still felt a wave of anger at being used in such a way, if that is what the Nightingale was doing.

I will not be weak, she thought defiantly.

I Will Not.

I will not simply lay her wishing for things that I cannot have. I took my vows in good faith, and will not abandon them because I find myself growing close with someone, someone who shares similar views, and clearly must know as I do that nothing can happen between us.

No matter how handsome, kind, strong, and gentle he is, there can be nothing between us, nothing.

She sighed heavily

 _There can be nothing between us, no matter how much the thought annoys and depresses me._

She sat there the rest of the night, trying to clear her mind, to meditate as she had done in the days when she had first taken her vows, taken them and been comfortable with them.

She tried not to think about Reaper, tried not to worry about him, and how his night alone in the wilderness had gone. The more she tried to not think about it the harder it came to ignore, and with it came one single terrifying question.

What would happen to her if he did _**not**_ return?

She feared that, more than she would ever be willing to admit. As skilled as the paladin was, it was always possible that he would fail to return from one of his missions one day. When that happened, she would be alone…

The thought made her shiver.

She would be alone, just as she had been after her mother's death in Denerim.

If he did not return, she would need to contact Sister Leliana, inform her of his loss. Then she would need to request an escort to take her out of here. She would likely seek to return to Denerim or to Haven, where she could continue to do the Maker's work as she had done before…

Unfortunately, it would not be the same, Reaper would be gone…

…and she would be alone.

She tried to push such thoughts away. In the last year, Reaper had always found a way to triumph. It did her no good to sit here and dwell on what might happen. When her knight returned he would likely have need of her, her skills.

It was up to her to make sure that she was ready.

She rose and went to her bag, to make sure that all her salves and ointments were where she needed them to be.

Time passed quickly as she worked, and soon she was interrupted by a knock at her door.

As Reaper had promised Mother Alysse had come, bringing food that she might break her fast.

Dee went to the window before answering the knock; she felt the heat of the morning sun on her face.

A new day is dawning, she thought to herself, and whispered a quick prayer.

Grant my knight victory, oh Maker, she thought…

And bring him back to me…soon.

IOI

"It has been a long time that we have heard from anyone from Val Royeaux child," Mother Alysse said with a hint of an edge in her voice.

The old priest reached out and patted the younger girl's hand.

"It is good to know that we have not been forgotten."

"The Divine cares for all of Thedas, Revered Mother," Dee promised, flashing her most confident smile.

"She would never leave any of her flock unaided."

The words came easily enough to the Blind Sister, mostly because she believed in them. In her brief time on the Sunburst Throne, Justinia V had done everything in her power to improve the lives of the faithful.

Unfortunately she had many rivals in the chantry and elsewhere. It made it very difficult for the Divine to accomplish her goals.

Normally Sister Daelle would have preferred to dine alone, especially after the rather early start this morning. Yet, when the Revered Mother offered to join her, Dee saw no way that she could refuse, especially after the woman had been so kind to bring her a meal that did not consist of salted beef and cheap ale. The sausages and fried bread were seasoned to perfection, the smell alone was enough to awaken her hunger, it made the young sister's mouth water, her stomach growled, and there had been so much of it. The plate that the Revered Mother had brought was quite large, large and heavy with food.

At least it sounded heavy, she thought, when the mother sat it down she heard a loud thump before her. As she reached out she felt its wide edge, she realized that the plate was not so thick, so it must have been quite full.

She smiled to herself.

Learning to see with her hands and ears had taken time to learn, but it never ceased to surprise the unenlightened,

"Too much food for one person, I'm honored, but I would not mind some company."

It would have been rude had Dee not asked for the woman to join her. Plus there was another added bonus, besides having the company of a fellow member of the cloth.

Dee hoped to find out more about the Templars, they had left before this mess had started. She was curious to find out what the Revered Mother knew, and possibly make a new friend and ally in the process.

If there was trouble on the horizon, the Divine would need all the support she could get. Small chantries like the one here might not have seemed like much, but if a hundred such places supported the Divine's initiatives, it would go a long way to furthering Justinia's goals.

…Whether she could count the chantry here as an ally remained to be seen.

All she could do was probe further, and win the Revered Mother's respect.

Dee could tell that Mother Alysse was nervous, the slight hitch in her voice, not to mention the sound, the nervous tapping of her foot.

 _Something_ _ **was**_ _bothering the elder priest, but_ _ **what**_ _…?_

Clearly the woman was worried about something, and the sister doubted that it had anything to do with the food.

Dee asked her about the Templars, if there had been much trouble since they had left.

The older woman sighed.

"I cannot deny that we have felt the loss of our Templars. We are a small chantry, only me and two young initiates see to our flock. Many armed and dangerous people pass through this way on the way to Gwaren. They visit the chantry and see our meager treasures, our sisters undefended…"

"Has there been any trouble?" Dee asked with a frown.

"Not yet," the mother replied, "Yet the threat remains. We asked the Lord Mayor for help, but I fear his men are as dangerous as the ruffians who are just passing through."

Dee considered that, she had no idea how many men the Lord Mayor commanded, though she knew that his daughter travelled with at least two men as bodyguard. She had heard them, one had coughed several times during their meeting with the lady; the other had stood to the left, shuffling his heavy feet.

She tried not focus on that, to stay focused on what had happened to the Templars.

"Do you know where the Templars have gone, why they left in the first place?"

"Ser Ryon did not tell me."

"Ser Ryon?" Dee asked.

"He led our Templars. A letter arrived from Kinloch Hold, carried by a messenger wearing Templar colors. He put it in Ser Ryon's hands, saying it was for his eyes only. Ryon read the letter, burned it, and summoned his men. They left that very night with not a word to anyone."

Dee could hear the anger in the mother's voice.

"Ryon grew up here; I've known him since he was a boy. I said the words when his sister married, inducted her children into the chantry when they were mere babes. Now he rides off without a single word of explanation? There was a time when Templars listened to the Revered Mother of their chantry, obeyed our orders, sought counsel and prayer before riding off…

"Now they think we stand again them; that we foolishly give succor and support to the Maker's enemies. Even here the shadow of Kirkwall haunts us."

Dee nodded grimly.

The Revered Mother was not wrong.

She had listened well not only in Val Royeaux, but in every chantry they had passed through on her many journeys...

There were many Templars who felt that the priests had betrayed them, or that the mothers were too naïve in these dangerous times. The destruction of the Kirkwall chantry at the hands of a mage had awoken many fears and suspicions in the order, paranoia against the circles only seemed to grow with each passing day. Many Templars feared that other circles would follow Kirkwall's example, that they would use the chantry's destruction, and the Annulment of the circle there as a rallying cry to strike out at the knights who protected Thedas from them.

Personally though, Dee did not see it that way. She did not believe in the great mage conspiracy. Mages were children of the Maker too, and deserving to find their own happiness in his world. She found herself thinking about a Knight-Lieutenant that Reaper had seen hanged near Val Chevin. The man had been working with elements of the Carta there. He had been trading young girls looking to enter the chantry to the dwarves for lyrium and coin. They had been orphans, those poor girls, no family, no one to miss them, they had thought they would find a better life in the chantry, Instead of a life of service those girls had ended up being sold to brothels and possibly Tevinter slavers.

Dee pursed her lips at the memory.

She had felt no shame when the man had met his end at the end of a rope.

Reaper had told her about a conversation he had had with the now deceased lieutenant, what had passed between them had still haunted her knight, and he had needed to tell someone about it.

"That bastard Anders gave the Templar order the mightiest gift that anyone could," the criminal had said, "So many chantry bitches dead, and they had never even seen it coming."

He had laughed then. Reaper had said nothing, what could he have said.

He simply waited for the man to continue.

"Since Kirkwall recruitment for the order has doubled," the man had continued, "Our ranks swelling with fanatically loyal boys and girls looking to give the mages a taste of good chantry steel, recruits who know to listen to their officers and not some sentimental old fool in Val Royeaux."

The man had chuckled then.

"Now if only the mages would be so good as to rid us of old Justinia. Then order could really get down to business."

Those words had been the final insult, and the final piece of wood on the man's pyre; Reaper arrested him then and there, killing both of his bodyguards in the process. The holy flames that Reaper now wielded worked just as well on Templars as it did on demons. The fires the paladin summoned burned the lyrium in their blood making their precious abilities next to useless against him.

The lieutenant had begged for mercy, right up until the end. He had died a shadow of his former arrogant self.

The criminal had ruled through fear, terrorizing the sisters of his chantry. Ironically enough it was that same fear that motivated the lord's men when Reaper showed them the Divine's symbol. They put the criminal on trial, and found him guilty because of Reaper's good testimony, that and the word of several girls that her knight had saved from the Carta the night before.

The traitor hanged, yet his words continued to haunt both her and her knight.

Reaper questioned the order's commitment to the chantry, Faith and duty no longer held sway over the Templars, he feared, it had been replaced with pride and fear.

Knights swaggered around the chantry thinking that they knew the Maker's will simply because they wore _**his**_ symbol. They filled their recruits' ears with stories of evil scheming mages and dangerous apostates, creating an army of fanatics, fanatics that thought that the chantry priests, those they had sworn to obey, were too weak, and needed to be protected from themselves.

The order needed enemies to justify its increasing power, and the mages were the perfect scapegoat. The mages, especially those in the circle, felt the Templars tightening the noose, they could not strike directly at the Templars, and so they lashed out at the chantry for not keeping the Templars on a tighter leash. That resistance only fed the Templars, allowing them to gain more power and continue to back the mages into a smaller and smaller corner.

If something was not done, Dee feared that the mages would eventually have no recourse but to strike back, and the Templars would need to respond. If the chantry tried to restrain the Templars it would look like it was supporting the mages, just as some Templars might hope.

It was a cycle that could only lead to disaster, a cycle that the Divine was trying to break.

Dee wanted to believe that there were enough good men and women in the order that they would stop this madness before it reached its dark conclusion, but she feared that that was no longer the case.

She feared for the chantry.

She did not share this with Mother Alysse though; all she could do was try and sooth the woman's fears and try to gain a new ally.

Talk turned to Reaper, what kind of man he was. Would he be able to find the monster that had murdered poor Lord Trystan?

In this Dee was on safer ground.

She spoke of a few of their exploits, the threats that Reaper had dealt with. The Mother asked her if the paladin would strike the beast down when he found him. Many of the people here believed that the hunter Grey Eyes was guilty and would accept nothing less than his head.

"My knight will see justice done, Revered Mother," she promised, "If the man is guilty he will be punished, if he is not, then Reaper will find the one responsible for this crime."

"I'm certainly glad to hear that."

Dee paused; the voice that had answered had come from behind Mother Alysse. She had not even realized that someone else was in the room with them.

The sister's brow furrowed.

She knew that voice.

"Lady Tanda," she said with a smile, "I had not realized that you were here."

"Oh I've been here for quite some time," the noble said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Dee heard footsteps and a knocking on the door.

The door to her room opened, and she heard the sound of heavy feet, heavy feet and coughing.

The Lady's bodyguards had just joined them.

Dee turned her head towards Mother Alysse.

Had the lady entered with the priest? How long had the girl been listening?

It was the only answer she could think of.

Mother Alysse's words confirmed her fears.

"I'm sorry child," she said, "I had no other choice."

"You may leave us Revered Mother," Lady Tanda said, "I'm sure you have duties to attend to. I will see to Sister Daelle."

"As you wish Milady," the mother said, she placed a hand on Dee's giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Maker watch over you, Sister Daelle."

"And over you Revered Mother," she answered.

Then the sound of hurried footsteps as the mother fled the room.

Dee sighed.

She should have expected this.

With no Templars to defend them, the priests were at the mercy of the local lord, or lady.

Dee did not blame her.

She heard someone sit down in Mother Alysse's chair, then the sound of someone helping herself to a bit of the breakfast that the old priest had brought.

"Ser Reaper sounds like an honorable man," Lady Tanda said.

"He is," Dee agreed, "He will see justice done."

She heard the lady snort.

"I would much rather hear that he will do his duty," the girl said with a bit of an edge in her voice, "He knows the man is guilty, he should carry out the sentence."

"He knows only what you have told him," the sister reminded her.

"And that should be enough to send that bastard Grey Eyes to end he deserves."

Dee said nothing further; she was not quite sure what the young lady wanted from her. Clearly Lady Tanda had hoped the chantry would have sent her a blade to simply kill this man she had accused. She had gotten Reaper instead; who insisted on investigating what had happened.

It did not sound that the Lady wanted an investigation. She would have preferred something more…final.

She heard the girl chuckle.

"You know, you should have accepted my hospitality when you first arrived, sister. You would have been much more comfortable in my tower."

"I did not wish to impose," Dee answered, not voicing the real reason for her choice.

 _The difference between guest and hostage to a noble was as thin of the edge of a knife. Dee had no desire to be a bargaining chip between the girl and the paladin._

Alas, she feared that that was exactly what was about to happen.

The sister sighed.

"What is it you want of me, Milady?"

She heard the girl laugh. It was an ugly sound, a cruel sound.

"The pleasure of your company," she said, "I've decided to go riding, and would like to take you along. There are some lovely ruins in the forest, ruins that I would like you to see. I…oops!"

She heard the girl giggle.

"My apologies," she said, "A poor choice of words."

Dee shrugged.

"It is not the first time," she said dryly.

"I'm glad you are not offended," the lady answered, "There is a lovely path through the forest. My brother and I rode it many times. If we leave now we will make it to the ruins before your knight arrives, won't that be nice, to be there when he deals out justice to the man who murdered my brother?"

Dee said nothing. If the lady thought they would find the hunter at the ruins, why had she not told reaper about this path?

Dee was sure she already knew.

"How can I refuse such a polite invitation," the sister said, "Just allow me to gather up my bag and cane and I will…"

"Oh you will not need your things," the Lady assured her, "You will ride with my man Tyrell, he will guide you, make sure you don't hurt yourself, is that not right Tyrell?"

"Yes mum," she heard a deep voice growl.

"Excellent," Lady Tanda purred, "It is all settled."

She place her hand on Dee's arm, her grip going from gentle to like iron in the space of a few moments.

Dee thought she heard an animal growl. Had the lady's men brought a dog with them?

When Tanda Forester spoke, her voice was as cold as ice.

"Daddy use to say that I was not fit to rule, that I lacked the strength to do what needed to be done."

The girl laughed again, a laugh that seemed to change, turning almost into an animalistic bark.

"You're Ser Reaper is about to see how strong I am, Oh yes.

Dee could not see her face, but from the amusement in the lady's voice, she suspected that the girl was smiling.

A cold animalistic smile.

A predator's smile.

"Oh yes," the lady promised.

"He will see."


	10. The Healer

**Chapter 10: The Healer**

It did not take Reaper long to find the mage.

As the sun continued to its descent, he continued the hunt. The magic he had sensed called to him, like a beacon, it was child's play to stay on track. He could follow the trail better than any Seeker now. The flames that had given him his new abilities had done nothing to dull the old ones; in fact, sometimes it seemed that his old Templar skills had been enhanced. Since his… **cleansing** Reaper was almost drawn to the presence of magic, drawn, but not a slave to its call. He wielded the powers of the order without tiring easily, and lyrium, it was no longer a factor. Whatever had changed him had taken away his dependence on the dust; he felt no craving, no desire to take up the philter again. He no longer required it, either as a crutch, or a leash. He had truly been set free. That had worried some of the sisters back in Haven, but Sister Leliana saw it as providence, proof that he was meant for more than just praying in a chantry. So she asked him to become her hand, her hunter, and he was one of the best. Once he had got the scent of magic he could trail it better than a bloodhound.

That last part had intrigued Lord Seeker Lambert more than anything else.

Dee had advised him that he should not be so open about all his gifts, especially to men like the Lord Seeker. Men of power were always looking for more power, or ways to exploit those that had it. He agreed that she had a point, after the fact, and promised to remember what she had said in the future.

Thinking of his partner made him smile. He was eager to finish this job and return to her side.

He could almost see her gentle smile then, those cloudy blue eyes that even though they could not see, could still radiate a sense of caring.

"Now is not the time to be thinking of me Reaper," the smile seemed to say, "you have a monster to hunt, stay focused."

He nodded.

The paladin quickly pushed any thoughts of Dee, the Seekers, and Val Royeaux out of his head. Such distractions could be fatal when on the hunt. Somewhere out here, a monster was lurking, it might even be watching him right now.

Until it was dealt with, he could afford to focus on nothing else.

As the last rays of sun faded from the sky, he caught sight of a small campfire. His Templar senses all pointing here as the source of the magic he had sensed.

He paused and tried to figure out exactly who and what he had discovered.

Two people moved around the fire. Both lithe and slender of build. Both were clad in robes of leather straps, feathers and deer skins. The taller one sat down on a log, casually smoking from a long clay pipe. While the smaller of the pair fed the fire, both wore hoods and cloaks, but that did not mean that Reaper was unable to figure out who and what they were. When the wind was just right he could just make out the some of their conversation, the sound of their voices, they were not speaking the king's tongue, that was clear, the language was more musical than that, older somehow.

Reaper smiled slightly.

Dalish, he thought to himself, wild elves of the forests.

He knew little about the Dalish, only what the history books taught. These elves descended from the nobility that had once ruled the elven nation long ago, after their defeat during the Exalted March of the Dales, they had chosen not to go with the rest of their kin into the Alienages; instead they had chosen to remain apart from the world. They had wandered free since the fall of their kingdom.

He knew he was dealing with, now he had to decide on how best to proceed.

Reaper took a deep breath and reached out with his senses.

Dalish normally travelled in clans he knew, yet he sensed only these two, and saw no trace of other elves.

Could be a hunting party he thought to himself, or perhaps some wandering mystic on a pilgrimage, on his way to the same ruins as a certain paladin, perhaps? Pure speculation, he realized, but it was possible. He was not sure if the ruins he sought were elven in origin, but if it was possible he might just have found someone who could shed some light on what he might face when he finally reached the heart of the forest.

He made for the campfire, making sure that his hands were nowhere near his weapons. Leliana's warnings about the Dalish here not being overly fond of humans came back to him.

He would need to proceed cautiously.

He took only a few steps before he felt the presence of the wards, the magical traps the mage had set to protect his camp. The magic sent a shiver down his spine. It was strong, and not to be trifled with lightly.

He stopped, not daring to take another step.

These magical traps the mage had set had likely been what had drawn him here. He could have dispelled them easily enough, they were strong, but nothing that his Templar ability couldn't handle. Of Course the mage would likely not think kindly on that might even see it as a hostile act, and if he simply tried to approach, he could not guess what the wards might do to him. How such spells were used often depended on the caster. Most wards only repelled the person that tripped them, repelled or held them in place; of course there was always the aggressive mage out there who thought that such a response was not good enough.

Reaper had heard tales of some magical wards, freezing a person solid, or melting the flesh off their bones, cooking a Templar in his armor.

The paladin had no desire to end up like that...

 _He could not go through the wards, and did wish to startle the mage by dispelling them._

He sighed that left him with only one option. Not the best perhaps, but likely the safest, if he wanted answer.

He called out to the two elves, and hoped for the best.

He hoped that they were friendly.

"You there, he shouted, "By the fire! Hello! May I approach?!"

The smaller of the pair was on his feet in seconds, shouting something in the elven tongue, reaching for one of the staves to the right of his sitting companion. That one, the one closest to the fire raised his hand, silencing his companion, stopping him from doing anything rash. He then looked out into the darkness staring towards where Reaper stood.

When he spoke it was with a small degree of amusement in his voice.

"You have a light step, friend," he called out, the voice was calm, educated, he spoke the king's tongue without a trace of a Dalish accent, "I might not have realized anyone was approaching if you had not called out."

Reaper let out the breath he did not realize he was holding.

 _If the elven mage was going to attack, he probably would not have bothered speaking first._

The mage, Reaper was now certain that this was the mage who had cast the wards rose; he slid back his hood revealing a pale face with a long mane of fiery red hair. Reaper guessed he might be in his thirties or forties, but it was hard to tell with elves, it was rare that an elf looked wizened, even when he had entered old age.

The mage smiled.

"You seem to be standing just outside the range of my wards, human. I'm guessing you know where they are?"

"I do," Reaper replied.

"And you are clearly armed and armored," the mage added, "A mage would not come so protected. Are you of the Templar Order then?"

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

Be careful, he thought.

Templars and apostates were rarely on friendly terms. He could lie he supposed, but that might be worse than telling the truth. This elf was clearly no fool.

"I was of the order," the paladin admitted, "I'm not anymore."

"Fascinating," the elf said.

The other elf was almost shouting in elven now. Reaper could not understand the words, but he could guess the intent.

Now that they know I was a Templar, they might just try to kill me for the past sins of the order.

"I mean you no harm," Reaper called out, he raised his hands, to show the two elves he was not even reaching for his weapons.

"A beast murdered a boy from a nearby village. I've been chosen to find it, and make sure that no one else is killed."

"Chosen or paid," the other elf shouted, a young boy by the sound of it, "You shemlen are more beasts than any forest creature!"

The boy's words did not please the elven mage.

"You are being rude, apprentice, that is no way to speak to a fellow traveler of the wood," he chided, "Had this man wanted to harm us, he would have simply dispelled my wards and would be upon us with his weapons by now."

"As I said, I'm not hunting mages," Reaper repeated, "I seek a monster in these woods, one likely hiding in the ruins at the forest's heart."

That admission got the elf's attention, he tilted his head slightly.

"You seek werewolves?" he asked, "Have they returned?"

"That is what I'm here to find out," Reaper called back.

The elven mage rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Long pointed elven ears twitched like a rabbits.

Finally, he gestured, forming symbols in the air.

Reaper felt the wards, power down.

"You may approach, traveler," he called out, "Share a place by our fire, I believe you and I should talk."

Reaper nodded, he did as he was bid yet he still kept his hands far from his weapons.

"I am called Aneirin," the mage said, "The boy is my apprentice, his name is Zath."

"I am known as Ser Reaper, a warrior in the service of Divine Justinia V."

"An interesting title. Ser, welcome to the Brecilian Forest," Aneirin said, "The boy and I were about to have some stew, you are welcome to share of course."

The boy elf, glared at the paladin, he was as pale as his master, but had black hair, and dark violet eyes.

"I've brought some apples if you would both like one," Reaper offered.

The older mage smiled.

"I've not had an apple in a long time," he admitted, "They do not grow wild, not in this part of the forest anyway. We accept your gift, and offer you the protection and hospitality of our humble camp."

Reaper accepted there offer.

It would be better to sleep here than tied up on some tree branch.

He took a seat near the fire, but not before removing his weapons. This Aneirin seemed an honorable sort, but the boy Zath continued to glare daggers at him.

Reaper knew that he would have to be careful around this one.

As the boy tended the stew, the two men talked. They spoke of their origins first. Reaper spoke of his time in Haven, and his rebirth in the holy fires there. The boy Zath looked at him like he was mad or a fool, but the elder mage listened intently. Aneirin confessed to having been born into the alienage, and of having trained in the Circle for a time. He had fled the tower long ago, just a boy of Zath's age, and had nearly died when a Templar patrol found him and ran him through.

Reaper winced, he was grateful that the elven mage held no grudge. He had plenty of reasons to hate Templars, or in Reaper's case, _**former**_ Templars.

Since that time he had been a wanderer, preferring the company of the trees and animals to that of his own people. He had been well trained in the healing arts during his days in the circle, skills that had only gotten better as he practiced here in the wilderness; most elves knew him as Aneirin the Healer now…

…And were never afraid to accept his help.

"I thought to return to the Circle once," the mage admitted, "Shortly after the Blight ended. Alas, the tower was little different than it had been when I was a boy. Due to my service during the Blight, the Knight-Commander allowed me to return to the Dalish, and to my wandering ways."

"And the boy?" Reaper asked.

The younger elf glared at him.

""'the boy' is none of your concern, shemlen." He spat.

His master spoke harshly in elvish to the boy, a brief exchange passed between them, and the boy fell to silence, lowering his head.

"Zath was born into one of the local clans," Aneirin said, "A clan that already had a Keeper and a first. Typically such children are given to other clans for training, or sent out into the wilderness to find their own path. I had been passing through at the time and offered to take him on as my apprentice."

The mage smiled.

"Do not let his temper fool you, Ser. Zath is a skilled healer, when he keeps his temper in check. He will be a skilled successor to my work one day."

"It was good of you to take him on," Reaper said.

"My master is a good man," the boy said sullenly, not wanting to meet the paladin's gaze. "Any fool could see that."

Reaper decided not to take the boy's comment as an insult; it was not that he had no reason to dislike someone who served the chantry.

As they ate, Reaper told them about his mission, and what had brought him to the Brecilian Forest.

Reaper told the elf about the murder of Trystan Forester, and how his sister had accused the hunter Grey Eyes of being both a werewolf and the killer. She mentioned that he could be found at the ruin in the Heart of the Forest, and that it would be in the paladin's interest to deal with the matter quickly.

Aneirin's brow furrowed as he listened.

"I know the man you speak of," he admitted, "I've traded with Wulfe Grey Eyes, even offered my skills when he needed them from time to time."

"Is he a werewolf?" Reaper asked.

The elven mage chuckled.

"A better question would be: Is the boy a murderer? The day of Witherfang and the werewolves ended long ago, Ser Reaper. Yet such power does not so easily flee. It leaves its mark upon the world, and the people touched by it, are never entirely free of its embrace."

"That did not answer my question, Ser mage," the paladin said.

"I suppose it didn't," he said with a shrug, "What would happen if I said yes? Would you fly from this camp tomorrow and slay Grey Eyes where he stands? Would you give him no more mercy than the Templars showed me all those years ago?"

The accusation stung. Reaper had no desire to be some common assassin, and executioner.

"If he is a werewolf," he said, "Does that not make him evil?"

"It would mean that he was marked by evil Ser," Aneirin answered, "Zathrian's evil, the curse the keeper released long ago. Evil can touch something, leave a mark upon it, but if it does not rule it, does that make the creature evil?"

"I suppose it depends upon the creature's actions." Reaper answered.

The mage nodded sagely.

"What if I told you that Grey Eyes was a werewolf, a werewolf that did its best to stay away from the world of man? He might take a sheep or cow from the local villages every now and then, but that is simply the nature of a beast is it not?"

Reaper shrugged not really sure how to respond.

In his experience monsters created by dark magic were drawn to evil. If this one resisted harming innocent people, did that truly make him a monster, or simply another denizen of the forest, a predator, not a monster?

Reaper shifted uncomfortably.

This hunt was moving in a direction had not expected.

"If the hunter is innocent, he has nothing to fear from me." he said.

"Even if he is a werewolf," Zath asked, "Doesn't your shemlen chantry feel that all such creatures should be destroyed?"

Reaper shrugged.

"I'm not the chantry," he admitted, "I serve the Maker, and do my best to protect his children. If this man is a werewolf, but no threat to the people that live around this forest, I see no reason to harm him."

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

"My interest is in the beast that murdered young Trystan Forester," he said, "That killer is the one I want, not some innocent forest beast."

This admission made Aneirin smile slightly. He nodded, as if he had come to a decision.

"You may rest here by our fire tonight human. My wards will keep you safe tonight. In the morning I shall take you to the forest heart, and we shall see if Grey Eyes is there. He knows me, so he will be less likely to attack blindly if I am there."

"I thank you," Reaper said gratefully, "Do you think he will talk to me? Do you think he may know what happened to the young lord of Forest's End?"

"Perhaps," the mage admitted, "As I have said, I know Grey Eyes. I don't believe he is a murderer."

"Do you have any theories who would have killed Lord Trystan?"

"I would not wish to point any fingers, Ser," the mage admitted, "There is one possibility, but I would prefer to speak with Wulfe before I share any suspicions with you."

Reaper nodded.

He could appreciate that.

He felt the wards that protected the camp flare to life again. After sharing a meal with his elvish hosts, he settled down to get some rest.

Aneirin said it would not take long to reach the forest's heart. Reaper found himself looking forward to the journey.

He found himself thinking about what Aneirin had said. He still had no clear confirmation that the hunter was a werewolf…

And if he was, Aneirin seemed to think him innocent of the crime. Which brought up another good question: If Grey Eyes had not killed the boy…

…then who had?


	11. Grey Eyes

**Chapter 11: Grey Eyes**

The healer woke him before the dawn.

Reaper aided the two elves in breaking camp; while they worked Aneirin told him what he knew about the Forest's heart.

"It was a place of power for centuries. The wards the Lady of the Forest used to defend her children remain despite her leaving this world. They have weakened much, and one day may fade entirely, but for now some power still remains."

Reaper listened closely. The elf had spent most of his adult life in these woods; he likely knew things that even the most skilled Templar might miss.

They began their journey. The Healer took the lead, followed by his apprentice, with Reaper taking up the rear. The knight could not shake the feeling that they were being watched, and said as much to the mage.

Zath had smirked at that. His master, more polite than a young boy, gave him an amused smile.

"There are many things in this forest," the elf reminded him, "not all of them friendly. They likely are watching us now. You were lucky not to have encountered some of the more dangerous of them yesterday.

The elf paused and raised his hand; Reaper sensed magic, as the elf dispelled the last of the wards he cast last night.

"Have no fear," he said, "I'm as much a forest creature as any of those that watch us. I know the ways of this place, and where to walk. We will reach the Ruins safely, I can promise you that."

The elven mage turned without another word, though his apprentice remained behind to smirk at the paladin.

"Stay close, shem," he advised, "You would not want to get lost here."

The foot paths that deeper into the woods were slim and narrow, often looping around this hill or that, or through rocky arches and down slippery slopes. The two elves proved more sure footed than their companion. Reaper did not complain once, or ask that they seek another way. He sensed no duplicity in the two elves, had they wished him harm, they could have done so last night as he slept, or simply raised the wards back to full as he tried to enter their camp.

No, the paladin did not doubt their trustworthiness, though he did get the feeling, that they did not share his point of view. Too many bad things had happened between the chantry and the elves for their ever to be true friendship between them. To many elves that he had encountered in his travels, the blood of the Dales still stained the hands of all humanity.

Some elves would never forgive that outrage.

As they walked the peace of the forest washed over him, the smells and sounds were deceptively comforting. His thoughts turned to Dee and how she would have loved this, how many rare healing herbs had they passed as they made their way deeper into the forest.

Of course, these paths would not have been easy for her. Even with her cane she would have been hard pressed not to have tripped over this rock or that root.

The thought made him a little melancholy.

Dee was a strong woman, perhaps one of the strongest he had ever met; she resisted despair, and soldiered on despite the limitations she had been forced to live with.

Blindness had broken many people in Thedas; he only had to look at the beggars they passed in any city to know that. Dee continued to fight on despite what she had lost.

Which is why you need to protect her, his conscience reminded him, as strong as she is, she will always need a helping hand sometimes.

That…is why she needs you.

The thought both pleased and frightened him a little.

Even if he had been commanded tomorrow to take a new partner on his missions, he would not simply set Dee aside. What they had faced together, what they had shared, it had affected him in a deep and profound way.

He would never be totally free of her, and strangely enough, he no longer wanted to be.

The journey continued mostly in silence, Aneirin led the way, and his apprentice and the paladin followed. The two elves had still revealed nothing of what they knew about the hunter called Grey Eyes, when asked, Aneirin simply said that he needed to be patient; all would be revealed in time.

It was frustrating, but it was not like Reaper could force the issue. The elven mage held all the cards here.

What would be found would be found in good time.

When the elven healer did finally speak it had nothing to do with their destination or what awaited them there.

In fact, it was about Reaper that he wished know.

"So this is your task," Aneirin said, "You seek out monsters at the chantry's behalf and deal with them?"

"Something like that," Reaper responded, "Occasionally I've been called upon to deal with…corruption in the Templar ranks as well, men whose crimes normally would slip beneath the notice of the Seekers of Truth."

This answer surprised the elf; he turned to face the knight, his features curious. His apprentice paused as well, going to his master's side, to wait for their journey to continue.

Reaper did not like the look in the elf's eyes, it spoke of judgment.

"You hunt your own kind?"

"The Dalish would never hunt our own," Zath said.

"Even if they were threatening your way of life," Reaper asked him, "Even if they brought shame upon your people?"

The boy fell silent, unsure of how to respond.

Reaper frowned.

"I hunt criminals," he said coldly, "Men unworthy of the shield they carry, unfit to wear the name Templar."

"And to what end do you do this?" the healer asked, "Justice? Do you simply seek the recognition of your superiors? Do you seek their thanks or reward?"

"There are rewards, yes," Reaper agreed, "But mostly I do this for the faith. The fact that these criminals exist is proof that the chantry is not the beacon of light that it once was."

He sighed.

"The Divine would see that light restored, our chantry reformed."

Aneirin's elven ears twitched slightly. He seemed to be thinking about how best to respond to what he heard.

"What you seek will be difficult," he finally said, "I do not believe that the chantry _can_ be reformed."

The statement shocked the paladin.

"What makes you say that? Do you not believe a few good men and women working together can make a difference?"

"I do," Aneirin said, "But I also know what I've seen of the chantry, both as a boy, and when I tried to return to the Circle. I remember the petty cruelties of the Circle. I remember Templars preying on innocent mages or those fool enough to believe that they were beyond such games, and because of what they were, and priests did nothing…because the Templars were their defenders and therefore innocent of sin and wrong."

The elf shook his head.

"The chantry is old and set in its ways. There are many that have learned those ways and how to profit from them, and have profited greatly."

The healer sighed.

"They will not let go of that profit easily, and will fight to the death to protect what they think is rightly theirs, and they will do so feeling completely justified, because they will believe it is the will of the Maker and holy Andraste."

The elf gave him a sad smile.

"In the face of such resistance, your Divine will find herself outnumbered I fear. You will find you have many enemies standing before you. Perhaps too many to face."

Anger flashed in Reaper's eyes, not because he thought the elf was wrong however…

…No he feared that the elf might be _right._

"So we should do nothing then? We should simply let the chantry and its servants slip into corruption?"

"No, you should fight on," Aneirin replied, "Perhaps you will get through to some, gather new allies and accomplish your goals in the end, but it will be a hard fight, hard and bloody. If the chantry is to truly be reformed, something would need to happen, some…catastrophe perhaps. Something would need to happen to shatter the old guard completely, and force the chantry to adapt to survive."

Reaper thought about that.

"Such a thing would cause chaos, many innocents would suffer."

"All growth is painful," Aneirin replied, "The rebirth you seek for the chantry would likely be very painful indeed, but it may be the only way to achieve what you desire."

The elf laughed then.

"Or perhaps I'm simply getting old; perhaps I'm simply an old man in his dotage speaking of things he does not truly understand."

He gestured for Reaper to follow.

"Come ser knight," he said, "The ruins are not far now."

Reaper sighed he stared at the elf's back for a while.

What the man had said…

The paladin shook his head.

He was wrong; he thought to himself, he has to be.

He had to have faith, in Justinia, and the chantry.

What he was doing, it was not all for nothing.

He had to have faith.

IOI

As they journeyed deeper into the forest the mist continued to thicken, to rise up and surround them.

Aneirin summoned a light to guide their way. Reaper's eyes darted back and forth as they continued down the path, his Templar senses fully alert.

"These mists are not natural," he said.

"They are all that remains of the spell cast by the Lady of Forest long ago," the healer informed him, "Once they denied access to any but those the Lady chose to enter. Now they simply swirl and offer shelter to those who do not wish to be seen."

Reaper started to raise his hand.

"I could dispel them," he offered, "I still possess the abilities of a Templar."

Aneirin chuckled.

"And in trying you will only feed the magics here. You would not be the first Templar to try to breach this barrier. If you try, you will strengthen the spell, and the mists will likely consume us, we will not be able to move forward, we may not be able to find our way back. We would be lost in these mists until we found our end."

"In other words," Zath said coolly, "Save your abilities shem."

Reaper lowered his hand. He gave the Healer and his apprentice a sheepish look.

"Sorry," he said.

The younger elf snorted.

"An apology from a shemlen that is new."

His master gave him a cool look.

"Not all humans are brutes, Zath, and at the same time, not all elves are innocent. Pride is not the exclusive sin of humans; too many elves suffer it as well. The nightmare that once haunted this place only existed because the Keeper Zathrian decided that his revenge needed to be eternal, and his clan suffered for it, his clan, and so many others."

The boy fell silent, clearly the rebuke stung, but it was also accepted.

Aneirin gave Reaper a nod of acceptance.

"It is rare that one trained by the chantry would admit they know less than they think. "Your wisdom and apology is welcome, and proof that my old mentor may not have been wrong about those that serve the chantry.

"I can't speak for others," Reaper admitted, "I can only follow my own heart, and do what I believe is right."

"As do we all," the mage responded.

The healer gestured, and the ball of light on his staff flew off, it stopped not too far away, but almost lost in the fog.

It winked three times.

"This way Ser," Aneirin promised, "we are almost there now."

Reaper shifted his shield on his back. He could not say what waited at the end of this journey. The hunter he sought, perhaps?

And with that hunter, he would find answers. The longer he was out here, the surer he was that more was going on than he could see.

He welcomed a chance to speak with this Wulfe Grey Eyes.

Hopefully, from him, he would find out what was truly going on, and by doing so find the guilty party in all of this.

Then he would have to decide what came next.

Justice…and whatever forms it would take.

IOI

The mist vanished as soon as they came in sight of the old ruins concealed in the Forest's Heart.

Reaper blinked at the sudden return of sunlight, and the crumbling beauty of the structure before him.

Though it had long collapsed, he could tell that this had been an important place once. The crumbling wall that surrounded it had been mighty once, strong. The archways that had long since collapsed had been delicate and beautiful.

The paladin shook his head.

He could not say for certain what this place had been. Was it a place of worship, perhaps, or maybe a palace to a long lost king?

A chantry scholar might know, but he was a simple soldier, he was at a loss.

He had travelled much in the last year. He had seen many places that had become sanctuaries for evil. These ruins, they did not feel like those places. His Templar senses could feel the power here, old power, yes, but the ruins lacked…the malevolence of other lairs he had needed to endure. If anything, all he could sense was neglect, neglect and loneliness.

The only sign of human life he could see was a small campsite that had been built near the entrance, a camp that spoke of a hunter's passing, a passage that had not been so long ago. The fire that had burned here had gone out recently. He could tell that by the still warm embers. On a rack made of wooden poles several animal skins had been hung out to dry. Reaper ran his fingers over these, they were still a little damp, likely having been placed her last night or yesterday morning.

He frowned.

They saw no sign of the hunter, and what was here suggested that he had not been gone long.

 _This is a man simply living his life; one would not expect such behavior after having murdered a high lord._

If this man was guilty, his camp offered no evidence. A man who had just murdered someone would likely not just return to his duties like nothing had happened.

Reaper turned to his two guides.

He had reached his destination, what came next would likely be far less pleasant; he had no desire for the two elves to be caught up in that.

"I shall wait here a while," he said, "The hunter appears to be gone, but I believe he will return. I thank you for your help, but I believe the time has come that we should part ways."

Aneirin smiled at that.

"I would stay a while longer," the elven mage said, "As I said before, Grey Eyes knows me, and your meeting will likely be less hostile if I am here."

The elf turned to his apprentice.

"We shall rest here Zath. Grey Eyes will no doubt return shortly."

So the three men waited, Zath fed the fire while Aneirin settled down under a crumbling stone pillar, using it for shade. Reaper sank to his knees and began to meditate. In the past a brief period of meditation had aided him when battle truly began in earnest.

He could not say if that he longed for such an encounter, but thought he had no choice.

A young man had been murdered.

He needed to find out why.

A few hours later, as the afternoon sun set high in the sky, the hunter finally emerged from the wilderness, a slain deer slung across his shoulders.

He paused briefly as he entered the clearing. He lay his kill down on the ground and removed the hood of his dark heavy cloak. His nose went skyward.

 _Is he sniffing the air,_ the paladin wondered, he realized then that he was standing down wind. Any animal would be able to catch his scent from here.

Perhaps…one already had.

The hunter paused briefly to pick up his kill and continued his journey towards the camp. Both Zath and Aneirin came to the paladin's side, whether to aid him, or stop him from attacking blindly, Reaper could not say.

He sized the man up as he approached.

He was not quite what the paladin had expected.

Wulfe Grey Eyes was younger than he would have thought. Somewhere between seventeen and twenty if Reaper had to guess. A stocky lad, the life he led had given the young man a strong back and broad shoulders. His features were mostly hid behind long brown hair; his jaw was covered with only the barest of stubble, and a long wicked scar rand down his left cheek to his chin. The clothes were befitting any other Ferelden born hunter. The cloak he wore looked like it had once been a bear skin, beneath that the man's shirt and trousers were what you might find any peasant wearing.

As he drew close, he raised his head, regarding the visitors in his camp, giving the paladin the first look at the eyes that had given the hunter his name, grey as a stormy sky, but not hostile or cruel, careful was the word that the paladin would use. Yes, the man had careful eyes.

"It seems I have guests," he said in a low voice.

It was then that those eyes found Aneirin, and they lit up.

The young man smiled.

"Hello healer," he growled, "It has been some time."

Aneirin smiled pleasantly.

"Well met, Grey Eyes. It has indeed been far too long."

The hunter nodded, his eyes falling on Zath.

"Your son?" he asked.

"An apprentice, nothing more," the healer responded, "But a worthy and willing one, I assure you."

Grey Eyes nodded again, it was then that his gaze fell on Reaper. The Paladin remained still, not drawing his weapon.

He was eager to see what reaction the man would have for him.

"You are no elf," he said grimly.

"Can't be more obvious than that," the paladin replied dryly.

The hunter snorted, whether from amusement or annoyance, Reaper could not say.

Aneirin stepped in before things could turn hostile.

"This is Ser Reaper, Grey Eyes, a servant of the chantry. He seeks a beast in our wood, a beast that killed a young man in Forest's End."

The hunter's eyes narrowed, he might have growled then.

"What sort of beast do you seek, have you come to me to help track it?"

Reaper decided to force the issue; he had grown weary of small talk.

"I seek a werewolf," he said, "And if the witness I met in Forest's End is to be believed…I have just found him."

Reaper waited then, to see how the young man responded, denial, hostility; even a teary eyed confession would have been welcomed.

The hunter did none of these things.

He laughed.

"The villagers said I was a werewolf?"

Reaper gave him an arched look.

"Are you?"

The hunter smirked.

"So what if I am," Grey Eyes replied, "Would you kill me for being what I am. Would your chantry teachings say that you have no choice but to slay me? Would you simply behead me where I stand?"

Aneirin was about to speak up then, perhaps to try to calm both men, but Reaper did not give the elf a chance.

It had been a long journey into these woods.

He was eager to find some answers.

"Only if you were responsible for the death in Forest's End," he said, keeping his hands away from his weapons. If this man was indeed a werewolf, he would only strike if threatened. _Perhaps,_ he thought, _the murder was not done intentionally;_ perhaps there was some way to free the poor boy from this curse. It was said that the Hero of Ferelden had done so almost ten years ago; perhaps it was still possible now?

Grey Eyes snorted with disgust.

"You think I'm cursed don't you? Well, I'm not what you think," he said, "I was born in these very ruins, this is my home, the Lady of the Forest drew me from my mother as she lay dying. She held me then, raised me. I was still just a pup when the Lady left us."

The young man blinked back tears.

"When she left, the rest of our pack was released. I was…different. I'd been born this way, and found that I was not merely human or wolf, but something that could be both. I chose not to risk the safety of others, I returned here, and have stayed these last five years. I've done nothing…servant of the chantry."

"So you deny the young man's death?" Reaper asked.

"I've slain no one," he said, "I've spent the last few weeks hunting far north of here, gathering pelts to sell. I'm to marry you see, I wished to look proper when I took my bride."

Reaper blinked, this was something he had not heard.

"Does she know of your…condition?" Reaper asked.

The hunter sighed.

"She knows," he said sadly, "I would not have entered into any binding without sharing what I was, it would not be fair."

The hunter shook his head.

"Enough of these questions, human," he spat, "Who was slain in Forest's End, who do they say I killed?"

""Lord Tristan Forester," Reaper informed him, "he was torn apart a week or so ago."

Hearing the name stopped the hunter in his tracks, his pale eyes widened in shock.

"Tris," he hissed, "Tris…is dead?"

"He is," Reaper said, "Slain by a werewolf, or so his sister claims."

The hunter staggered back, he looked shocked, about to fall over.

"Tris," he gasped, "his…his sister, but…but that is impossible! I didn't…I…I couldn't."

He looked angrily at Reaper.

"You are lying," he hissed.

"I'm not," the paladin said, his hand now drifting to his sword, he felt something strange coming off the boy.

"I would never harm Tris," Grey Eyes spat, "Never! Tandy would never say that I did! I would never hurt her so! Never!"

Something clicked in the back of Reaper's mind.

"You know Lady Forester well?" he asked.

"I'm to marry her, human. I…I love her," he said angrily, "I've known her and Tris for years. Their father knows me; I've hunted with them since I was a boy. Tris talked to him for me. He knew how happy his daughter was with me, got him to accept my asking for his daughter's hand. What reason would I have to slay him?"

Reaper's head spun.

Lady Forester knew Grey Eyes.

They…they were to be married?!

He remembered the girl's denial, her reaction!

None of this truly made sense.

He looked at the young man; he could see the pain in his eyes, the pain and the loss. If he was lying he was one of the best actors in Thedas, more skilled than any mummer's troupe.

The paladin frowned.

He needed to speak with Lady Forester.

Something was going on here.

It was at that moment that a group of six people emerged from the forest, they stood before the ruins, just at that forest's edge.

Lady Forester stood before them, her eyes cold and imperious.

Grey Eyes turned, at Reaper's side the two elves tensed.

The lady had brought four guards with her, lightly armored, but armed with spears and wicked-looking blades.

The hunter tried to approach her.

"Tandy," he said, "What…what is the meaning of this?"

The lady did not even look at him. She glared at Reaper.

"You did not do as I asked warrior," she spat.

It was then that one of the lady's guards dragged someone from behind his mistress. Her hair was disheveled, her cheek bruised, her robes torn from quick passage through the forest.

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

Lady Forester had Dee with her, her hands bound, blood dripping from her split lip.

"Reaper?" she called out.

He winced at the pain in her voice.

Shock quickly turned to fury.

He realized now that he had been hunting the wrong monster.

He glared the young lady, who now wore an icy smile.

The paladin tensed.

He now knew what had happened.

Heat flickered around his hands, the fire wanting to flow out of him.

"I'm here Dee," he called out to his partner.

"I'm here."


	12. The Hostage

**Chapter 12: The Hostage**

She was not led, she had been dragged. She had been forced into a saddle with her hands bound. They had not even waited for her to grab her cloak or her cane, she would have no use for them where she was going, their lady said.

 _Lucky them,_ thought Sister Daelle.

The cane she used when she travelled held a little surprise for unwary thieves and outlaws twist the handle, and it could be removed to reveal a twelve inch blade of good castle forged steel. It had been a gift from Sister Leliana sometime ago, though Dee had never had the chance to use it.

Her captors had rode hard into the forest, the two that had accompanied their lady when Dee had been taken had been joined by two others, now the six of them rode out into the wilderness seeking not only the hunter Grey Eyes, but Reaper as well.

The lady's man Tyrell did not know enough to keep his hands to himself; Dee could feel his hands crawling over her body as they rode. Though their mistress had ordered that she not be harmed or molested in anyway, the man did not seem to care.

Dee made him pay for that, when his hands drifted over her breasts in an inappropriate manner. She flung her head back striking the thug's nose, breaking it; she could hear the cartilage snap as the back of her head found its mark. It was painful for her, but it was a just pain. He fell from his horse dragging her with him. She split her lip in the fall, but was otherwise uninjured, praise the Maker. Angrily the man had dragged her to her feet and struck her across the jaw, sending her back to the ground. He growled like a wild animal, spitting curses and obscenities at her.

Yet, your nose is still broken, ser, she thought, trying to keep a bloody smile from her face.

He might have kicked as she lay there, but his lady stopped him.

"You should have kept your hands to yourself, Tyrell," she said with an amused laugh, "It seems that our blind little mouse has teeth after all."

Lady Tanda had another of her men take Dee. Alrik, she called him, Dee was once again pulled to her feet and forced into the saddle.

"Do not struggle sister," her new captor advised, "I have no desire to hurt you."

 _Yet_ , thought Dee, he has no desire to hurt me _yet_ , that may change if his lady says otherwise.

It was then that Dee noticed something strange. A scent she had smelled since Lady Tanda had first taken her hostage. It was an odor she did not recognize, strangely sweet, but…wrong somehow. The first time she had smelt it was when the Lady drew close to her back in her room, at the time she had thought it some strange perfume, maybe something from Orlais, but in truth, the smell was not pleasant, not one would expect of a fancy perfume.

Both Tyrell and Alrik had the same scent. Perhaps it was something from the village, or may be the lady fancied it, not that it was pleasant enough to be fancied…

She said nothing of course; she had no desire to be struck again.

Once again they raced forward. Alrik kept close to his mistress' side, from what Dee heard, he was the youngest of those in his lady's service, just a boy of seventeen. The Lady Tanda seemed to delight in teasing him, asking him if this was the first time he had been so close to a woman?

It was during the course of this journey that Dee realized just how… _wrong_ the Lady Tanda Forester was. One moment she would speak of pain and grief of her brother's loss, the next she would grow angry, cursing the day he was born.

"I'm the eldest sister, did you know that?" Tanda spat at Dee.

"You may have mentioned it earlier, Your Ladyship," Dee answered.

"I'm the _eldest_ , yet my father had no desire to see me rule. He said I did not have the right temperament. That it would be better if I was simply married off, married off to someone who made me happy."

The noble snorted angrily, and then she laughed like some septic vulture.

"Happy," she hissed, "What good is happiness? My father could have been so much more had he simply tried. He had been a hero in his youth, did you know that sister? He fought against the Blight, and returned to tell the tale, he could have had more than our humble tower house had he been just a bit more ambitious."

"Perhaps he was happy with his lot," Dee offered, "He was Lord Mayor of your village, he had two children he no doubt loved dearly. He was…"

"He was a fool sister," the lady spat, "Daddy and Tris were both fools! They would have sent me off to live in the forest, sold me off like a broken down mare. I was meant for more than that, far more. Our family has greatness in our blood; all that is required is someone with the strength to seize it. Tris didn't have it, and neither did daddy."

Dee heard the other woman sigh.

"I was right to… _retire_ him.

Dee said nothing, even though she shuddered at the confession.

That was how she found out that Lady Tanda had had her father murdered.

That is when she realized just how mad the Lady Tanda was.

As a sister of the Faith, Dee had heard confessions before. Often as she and Reaper passed through small villages and towns people would seek out the blessing of Andraste, or to unburden their soul of some great weight. While travelling through Ferelden it was often former soldiers who had fought in Ferelden's brief Civil War. Teyrn Loghain's war against the nobles had been as brutal as it had been short, men and women on both sides had done things that haunted them, things that they were more willing to confess to a stranger than someone who lived in their local chantry. It had never hurt of course that Dee could not see, she could not look into their eyes, and they could not see judgment there, for those poor sinners, that had been enough. Once they had unburdened their souls they seemed to take solace in the fact that she could not see who she had just heard, and the things she had heard, some of them were more than horrible. The Maker's forgiveness was often tested from the things done during that war.

Yes, she was used to hearing the words of the guilty, and the Lady of Forest's End was no exception.

Lady Tanda's confession was both long and rambling. She never openly confessed to killing her father, only that he had not been able to accept how things had changed after her brother's death, and that she had been forced to act…for the good of her family of course.

"Even with Tris gone he would not accept me," she complained, "I was his last living child, yet he spoke of sending word to my uncle, that one of my cousins should come and be prepared to take my brother's place. Like I would ever have allowed such an affront to my honor! The gall of the man, I swear to you sister, the gall!"

She laughed again, a nervous laugh that was both as unstable as it was arrogant.

"I tried to convince him that Tris' death was not all a terrible thing that at last I would be able to rise and show the world how great our family could be, but he would not see that sister. When he looked at me all he saw was his little girl with skinned knees and a calmly face."

Dee did not answer; she was not sure what words the woman wanted to hear. Forgiveness? Justification for her actions?

No, it was better to simply remain silent.

"Speaking of calmly," she said, "I must admit your good knight is quite the vision himself, strong and handsome, just like one of the hero-knights out of the tales."

Again Dee said nothing, she only knew what her fingers could tell her, she knew what the woman said was true, but she had no interest in playing her games.

"And the two of you…travel together," she said in a mockingly sweet voice, "What a pleasant journey that must be for you sister."

Dee snorted with distaste.

"Reaper is a good man," she said flatly.

"Oh I'm sure he is," the lady replied with a giggle, "Just how good I wonder? Answer me this, sister, are you two fucking?"

Sister Daelle's finger's tightened into angry fists; she wished she had her cane, preferably the one with the blade in the handle.

The sex thing, she thought, it always comes down to the sex thing doesn't it? Everyone always assumed that man and woman could not keep their hands off of each other, even when that man and woman had sworn themselves to a higher power.

She had no desire to feed the noble's lecherous notions.

"Reaper and I are servants of the Chantry," she said coldly, "We do not surrender to such base desires."

The noble laughed again.

"Are you telling me you have never thought about it? You have never wondered what it would be like to be a woman, to lose yourself in the throes of passion, to feel those strong arms around you, his lips against yours. To have him take you in ways that even the most base of whores would find distasteful?"

The lady was not wrong, she had thought of such things, maybe not as dark as she made it, but she had wondered what it was like, to have Reaper to know him in the way of man and woman.

Dee said nothing, she did not wish to answer, however she could feel the heat in cheeks, and knew that she was blushing.

She lowered her head in shame.

"I knew it," the lady cackled, "You chantry types like to claim you are so high and mighty, but your desires burn no less bright that we lowly sinners."

Dee did not deny that. Despite her station, she was still a young woman of two and twenty. Was it not natural for one such as her to feel desire, to lust, despite her vows and training. She felt those feelings true, but that did not mean she would give into them, and had not since taking up her vows.

She was no true innocent of course; she had surrendered that part of herself as the darkspawn had threatened to kill them all in the city of Denerim. She had not wished to die without knowing what that was like. She had laid with a boy, the son of one of her mother's friends. They had both known the darkspawn were coming, and neither had wished to die a virgin.

She did not know if that boy was alive or dead now, and it had not been the most pleasant of experiences. Neither of them had really known what they were doing, and when it was done they had parted without a word.

She hoped he had survived the battle. She hoped he was now living comfortably, married with several small children filling his home with love and laughter.

He had done her a service that day, and prayed that he had found the same peace with his life that she had.

"Fear not sister," Lady Tanda chuckled, "Maybe I will let you have a piece of your dear knight before I see him dealt with for not carrying out my orders. If that animal still lives when we arrive at the ruins; I fear that I will have to take matters into my own hands."

Dee turned her head then, she could not see the noble bitch, but she knew where she was.

 _I want her to look upon my dead eyes and know what awaits her if she chooses to try and harm my knight._

"You may come to regret that decision, Milady," she said coldly.

Again the lady laughed.

You might be surprised," the lady said, her voice dripping with venom.

"My men may not be knights, and I no warrior, but we are not defenseless."

The lady laughed then, a laugh that changed, becoming almost the bark of an animal.

"Steel is not the only weapon we possess," the lady growled, her voice deeper, more savage.

Dee felt a shudder run down her spine.

Maker, she thought.

What have we gotten ourselves into?

IOI

"You did not do as I asked warrior."

Dee heard the venom in the lady's voice. Once again she was dragged along by Alrik forced to stand beside Tanda Forester and her goons.

"Reaper?" she called out.

"I'm here Dee," she heard him call out; "I'm here."

Despite the danger they were in, despite the rough journey through the wilderness, she smiled.

They had brought her to her knight.

They may not realize it yet, but that was a mistake.

"What is this Tandy," she heard someone else call out, "They say you told them I killed Tris. Why would you do that?"

"Because it is the truth lover," the lady growled, "You may not have done the killing yourself, but you're as responsible as anyone else."

Dee heard the woman laugh manically.

"After all, none of this would have been possible without you."

Dee could hear the lady's guards shifting position, likely moving into formation for an attack. The fact that they had not charged yet suggested that they faced more than Reaper and the hunter, perhaps the young man had allies that he had summoned.

"Who are your friends," she heard Tanda say, "I thought the Dalish did not care for you Wulfe?"

Dalish, Dee thought, how in Andraste's name had the elves gotten involved in this?

"We are merely humble travelers, she heard someone else say, one of the elves she guessed, "My apprentice and I met this warrior in the woods. We desire no trouble."

"Then you should not have come here," the Lady spat, "I sent this man to do a job, to kill a beast that has been troubling me. Now by coming here you are just as at fault as he is."

"We have no quarrel with you shemlen," another voice, different than the other, younger, angrier, "You do not wish to make enemies of us. You would not like what happens when you do."

"Shut your mouth knife-ear," Dee heard one of the guards shout back.

Five on four, Dee thought, not terrible odds, the others might be able to keep the Lady's thugs busy, give Reaper time to turn the tables…

She took a deep breath, and centered herself as Leliana had taught her, centered herself and waited.

When the time came, she would need to act quickly.

"I didn't want it this way," Lady Tanda shouted, ""I wanted you to be a part of this Wulfe. Tris didn't understand, neither did Daddy, but you, you know, you are different. I enjoyed our time together. I wanted you at my side when I moved my family forward."

"Tandy, this…this isn't you. I know what you're feeling, the power, all the rage, but I can help you through it."

"I don't need your help," the girl shrieked, "You've given me what I needed. Now you just need to go away and let me take my rightful place in this world."

"Tandy?"

Dee could hear the heartbreak in the young man's voice, the man she assumed was the hunter that Reaper had been sent to find. Clearly the lady knew him better than she had let on.

"Love…I…"

"I never loved you," The lady shouted, "NEVER! You were always a means to an end. I used Tris to get to you, and now that I have what I want I don't need you anymore, no matter how much fun you were. I will find my pleasures elsewhere now, and oh what pleasure they will be. Gwaren is a bug waiting to be squashed; all of eastern Ferelden will follow. I will reach out of this forest and all that I desire will fall into my lap."

The noble giggled.

"I will be the lady of the Forest reborn!"

When the hunter spoke again, it was not with heartbreak but with anger.

"You miss the whole point of the stories I told about the lady," he spat, "She protected us, kept the beast within from swallowing us whole. You would unleash Zathrian's curse on all of Ferelden!"

"I would release it on the world," Lady Forester cried.

"I can't allow that."

She heard the sound of Reaper's sword leaving its sheath.

"Whatever your planning Milady, it ends now."

"You think you can stop this?!" the woman laughed, "The power I'm about to wield lasted for centuries! Do you honestly think that a single knight can stop it?"

"He does not stand alone Tandy."

"Stay out of this Wulfe."

"No, Tris was my friend. I will not let his death go unanswered."

"Then you will both die here!" the Lady shrieked, "Both of you."

Dee tensed.

It was almost time.

""I've lived my entire adult life in these woods girl," she heard the older elf say; "Zathrian's curse died a decade ago. I will not see it spread throughout Ferelden."

"This is not your fight, Rabbit," Tanda snarled.

"If you wish to bring death upon these men, then…yes…I'm afraid it is."

Dee heard Tanda Forester growl, not simply a growl of anger, but that of an enraged animal about to spring.

"Surrender Milady," she heard Reaper say, "I will see that you receive a fair hearing for your crimes."

"It is a long way to from here to the gallows, fool," Tanda said, she was breathing hard now, her voice sounded pained.

"Your men are no match for us," Reaper said.

Lady Tanda laughed.

"Noooo match," she giggled, "You fool. You stupid foo-awooooooohhh!"

All around Dee heard the sound of animal's snarling, of leather straps snapping and fabric tearing. The smell she knew from earlier seemed to grow.

All around her now were the snarls and snapping of beasts.

When she heard the lady speak again, she barely sounded human.

"Yoooo will diiiiiiie!"

Alrik's grip tightened on her arms, she felt his hands growing, his nails changing into sharp claws.

She could smell the breath of a woodland beast on her neck, the breath of a predator.

A savage howl split the air, turning her blood to ice.

Something large lunged over her head. She felt the wind as it passed.

The fight for their survival began.


	13. The Fight

**Chapter 13: The Fight**

They watched as the lady and her men transformed. Tanda Forester tore at her gown as her shoulders grew too broad and strong to be restrained any longer. Her eyes turned golden and her jaw and nose began to jut outward, changing into the muzzle of a wolf. Her teeth grew longer, sharper, larger. Behind her, her guards were going through similar transformations, they threw away their weapons, and torn off their armor, as muscle covered furred bodies expanded beyond any human norm.

Reaper glanced at the three men standing next to him. Zath was clearly frightened by what he was seeing; no doubt he had heard the tales of the werewolves that had haunted these ruins a decade ago. Aneirin regarded the lady and her men with distaste, as a former mage of the circle he knew the length that some people would go to secure power. Too many a mage had dabbled in the forbidden arts over the years to not leave at least some impression on those that walked the Circle's halls. The healer might have been many years out of the circle, but such tales and memories tended to stick with people, especially when the Templars were so willing to blame **all** for the sins of the _few_.

"We should not have come," Zath said, sounding like the boy he was for the first time, scared and unsure, not that Reaper blamed him, seeing a werewolf change was enough to frighten anyone.

"We should not have gotten involved."

"This evil would have come upon us eventually, Zath," his master said pragmatically, "The tale of Zathrian's curse is known to any who have ever heard the _Tale of the Warden."_

The older elf sighed.

"Our people would have been blamed for this. The Templars will seek the Dalish folk out, punish us for this if this evil spreads," the elf's mouth was set in a grim line; clearly his mind was made up.

"Better we deal with it here and now."

The hunter Grey Eyes looked pained, he stood there and watched the girl he loved declare she had never desired him, only what he could offer her, and now that she had it, he watched as she turned into a monster.

"I didn't know," he murmured morosely,

"I didn't know."

Reaper was more pragmatic. His expression remained grim, unchanged, this was not the first time he watched a "good" Andrastian change into a monster before his eyes. He had seen many transformations since beginning this mission, and, provided he survived the next few minutes, would likely see many others before it was through.

 _I should have seen through the lies,_ he chided himself; _I saw the way that the Lady Tanda was acting, the naked ambition in her voice. I dismissed it as grief and a noble girl's bratty nature, but…_

He sighed, trying to keep his temper in check. Seeing his partner standing there, seeing her being threatened…

…It was all he could do to keep from leaping forward, even though he knew such a leap would be suicide.

There were four werewolves standing before him now, five if you counted the one holding Dee, though that one seemed to be having trouble making the change, trying to stay human enough to keep their hostage secure.

"I did not know," grey Eyes repeated, "I didn't know."

"What didn't you know," Reaper asked, never taking his eyes off the snarling beasts before them.

The hunter looked at him.

"I didn't know that I could pass on what I was to another," he answered.

Reaper nodded.

He thought that he understood what had happened now.

The hunter had been manipulated, of that he was sure now. Somehow the lady had gotten him to infect her with the curse he carried. Had she known what would happen? He could not say, but it was clear from what he had just heard that she now had a plan to use the curse to pursue her ambitions, beyond simply hunting animals in the woods.

The paladin's eyes narrowed.

The Lady had no choice now; she could not let them escape, any of them. She could not risk the telling others her secret, not when she had such grand plans in store.

Had her brother found out? What had brought him into the woods that night? Reaper could not say, and in the end it did not matter. As he looked at the reddish-furred she-wolf snarling down at him, he knew that his search had reached its end.

He had found the beast that had murdered young Tristan Forester. Now he just had to make sure that Dee, himself, and the rest of these good people did not share the lord's fate.

The paladin swallowed hard.

 _Easier said than done._

Dee was not struggling. Either the girl was frozen with fear, which he doubted, or she was waiting for the right opportunity.

 _If she could get away from the monster holding her, I could deal with it,_ he thought to himself, _but first he needed to give her the chance to make her move…_

…He needed a distraction.

One of the werewolves leapt over Dee's head, a monstrous looking one with a broken mussel dripping blood. It snarled savagely at the paladin and his allies, almost daring them to make the first move.

Don't play their game, Reaper thought. It had been one of Leliana first lessons, when she had brought him into this life. If they were going to survive the next few minutes they could not simply fly at the beasts and hope for the best.

First though, he needed to see to Dee, get her out of there. He looked at his partner hoping she would be able to figure out what was coming next.

""I'm going to get you out of this Dee," he called out, "Don't be frightened."

The sister laughed nervously.

"Little late for that," she called out over the cacophony of growling and snarling beasts. Yet, they did not attack, he might have been wrong but he thought that they were listening to the exchange between paladin and priest.

Good, he thought, so much the better.

"It will be just like that time outside of Lydes," he said, "Do you remember, how I saved you from those bandits?"

His partner tilted her head; her lips formed the beginning of a smile, not enough to be noticed.

She remembered what had happened outside of Lydes, and it had nothing to do with him saving her.

He hoped she got the message.

"I remember," she said, "You were so brave that day."

The Tanda-beast made a huffing sound, Reaper was not sure what it was, but he suspected that it was laughter, laughter directed at him, and what she must have thought as overconfidence.

 _Just keep on thinking that bitch,_ he thought, _just keep thinking you have this situation all wrapped up._

Overconfidence could be an edge as well.

"Huntsman," he said, trying to get Grey Eyes attention, the young man could not take his eyes off his former love, the one who had betrayed him.

"I didn't know," he continued to repeat, "I didn't know."

Reaper rolled his eyes.

" _ **Huntsman,"**_ he said, putting as much steel in his voice as he could muster.

That got the boy's attention.

"Yes," he said noticing the knight for the first time since the Lady had arrived with her men.

"I don't suppose you know a way to get these bastards attention?" the paladin inquired.

The hunter's eyes narrowed.

"I have one idea, yes," he confessed, "Do you have a plan?"

"The beginning of one, perhaps," Reaper admitted, "Provided you can get this lots attention."

The hunter growled; a low menacing sound in the back of his throat, anger at being manipulated showing through for the first time.

"I can do that," Grey Eyes said.

He risked a glance towards the two elves.

"When the attack starts, try to keep them from linking up," he advised, "Don't let them swarm you."

"You are talking crazy, shem," Zath's voice was only a step below hysterical.

Fortunately, Aneirin was there to keep the boy grounded.

"Stay close to me apprentice," he advised, "You know the shield spells that we have been practicing? Well, here is the time to use them."

"Once I get my partner free," Reaper said to the older elf, "I would appreciate you trying to shield her too. She cannot see, so running is going to be problem for her."

Aneirin nodded.

"I will do what I can for the sister," he promised, "You have my word."

Reaper nodded.

Still the wolves did not attack, they seemed to be enjoying this, savoring the meal to come.

You should have struck before we were ready, he thought looking at Lady Tanda. Your arrogance is going to be your undoing.

He risked another glance at Grey Eyes.

"Whatever trick you have up your sleeve hunter," he said, "I would use it now."

Grey Eyes snorted, and took a step back.

"You may not like what you are about to see," he said.

And with that, the hunter transformed.

He tore off his shirt and cloak, roaring a challenge at the five wolves standing before them. His body grew and expanded, then grew and expanded more. Ears pointed, mussel extended, shaggy brown fur covered his face and torso.

"Creators save us," Zath gasped.

The werewolf that had been the hunter rose to his full height, almost a head taller than the largest of Tanda Forester's pack.

"Pupsssss," he spat, "Yourrr nothing but pupssss."

The hunter raised his powerful hands; long yellow claws glinted in the sun.

"Kill meeee if yooooou can," he dared them.

The she wolf that led their enemies howled. Howled and leapt.

Grey Eyes rose to meet her.

They collided in a ball of fur and claws.

The fight began.

A second wolf went to his lady's aid. The third circled around to the left, likely going to attack the lightly defended elves.

Reaper sprinted forward. The werewolf with the broken face leapt to meet him, to bring him down and tear the paladin's throat out with his powerful jaws.

Reaper had other ideas.

The werewolf overshot his lunge Reaper ducked down and let the beast fly over him he heard its toe claws scrape against the armor on his back.

"Now," the paladin shouted, _**"NOW!"**_

Dee heard him, and obeyed.

The werewolf holding her was still not fully changed; he growled and salivated eager to join the fray, so eager that he probably had not been holding onto the blind sister as tight as she should have been.

Dee made him pay for that.

She flung her head back, striking the beast on the nose, not hard enough to do damage, but it did startle it, the creature let go. The sister whirled around and drove her knee as hard as she could into the monster's groin. The werewolf yowled and staggered back.

Reaper put on a bit more speed, sword in hand. He had to reach the beast before it recovered.

Dee tried to back up only to be seized by the arm, she tried to pull away but to no avail. The werewolf she had struck roared in fury, its speed surprising for one so large. The blow she had struck had angered the creature beyond all reason, all it saw was her, and its desire to punish her for hurting it.

Reaper used that to his advantage.

" **Duck!"** he shouted.

Dee once again did as he instructed, the paladin leapt, bringing his sword down in a wicked arc.

The sister fell back on her butt when Reaper's blade severed the werewolf's arm at the elbow. The creature staggered back, more surprised than anything else, so focused had it been on Dee that it had not realized it was under attack.

Reaper whirled around putting all his weight into his shield; the blow struck the monster in the face, using its own backwards momentum against it.

The wounded beast went down hard strike its head against a stone block with a sickening crack.

The werewolf gurgled, its shattered jaws spitting broken teeth as it lay twitching on the ground.

Reaper raised his sword, he would finish the monster quickly, get back into the fight.

A snarl behind him drew his attention from his injured foe.

The werewolf that had come at him originally had finally caught up with him. The paladin barely had the time to pivot and raise his shield when the werewolf came down hard on his prey. The two tumbled to the ground as the beast put all its weight onto the knight's chest.

He struggled trying to push the monster off, but to no avail.

Claws raked at his shield.

Reaper kept his arms locked; it took all his strength to keep the werewolf's jaws from closing around his neck. It tried to yank his shield away, but he held fast onto its pine and iron surface. He heard Dee shouting his name, but even that was almost drowned out by the hungry snarls of the werewolf, the stink of its breath and the ropey saliva that that dripped down with each new snap of the monster's jaws.

He tried to get his legs under the monster, try to kick it off, but between the pulling on his shield and the creature's struggle to sink its teeth into him, that wasn't possible, and the weight, sweet Maker, the weight. He was having trouble breathing between the werewolf's pushing down on his chest, and the monster's foul breath in his face.

As he tried to get free, he heard Dee cry out in panic. That finally got him moving.

She was in trouble.

 _ **He-had-to-get-free!**_

Fury replaced fear, he glared up into the werewolf's yellow eyes and broken snout... In his rage he reached out to the fire burning within him.

" **Get-OFF!"**

The fire flowed into his hands, and from his hands into his shield.

The surface burst into flames!

The werewolf yowled but did not let go. Flames licked at its chest and arms, the stench of burning fur filled Reaper's nostrils, and still the monster continued to snap at him, trying to reach his face…

Something struck his attacker in the back, flinging it off of him, finally. The paladin rolled to his feet, snatching up his sword.

Dee was crawling across the ground, the werewolf who had been holding her at the start of the fight was still after her, crawling along the ground, reaching for her with its remaining clawed hand, Despite its crushed in skull, it was still snapping at the sister, blood and saliva leaking from its mouth. The sister screamed and kicked, trying to stay away.

Reaper brought his sword down hard, impaling the monster through the back of its neck. Only then did it finally cease its attack, it shuddered and finally collapsed.

"Reaper?" Dee called out.

"I'm here," he said, "It is dead."

A shudder of relief went through her.

The paladin scanned the battlefield seeing where he might be needed most.

Of the lady and the hunter, he saw nothing. He was not sure if she had fled and the hunter had pursued or if the battle had spilled down into the ruins. A lone werewolf battled Aneirin, the healer using his spells to keep the beast at bay. Zath stood apart keeping his staff up, and chanting quietly, a magical shield swirled around him. Reaper spotted a second wolf on the ground, the creature was tangled in a net of vines and roots that seemed to be growing tighter with each passing moment.

 _No threat there_ , he realized, he scanned the area for the monster he had burned, he spotted it slinking along the edge of the ruins, limping, its movements labored, yet it was still dangerous.

"Stay here," he told his partner, "I will be back soon."

He rushed to the healer's aid, but was careful to keep a watchful eye on the burned monster.

He slashed at Aneirin's opponent, his sword biting into its side. The werewolf hissed and swiped at him, but that only made it easy prey for the healer's next spell.

The elf nodded gratefully as the knight intervened, his pale face was damp with sweat; it could not have been easy holding the savage monster back.

"Zath," he called out to his student, "Shield the human girl. Ser Reaper and I will finish this."

Had the order come from Reaper, it would likely have been ignored. For his master, the boy obeyed without question. A second shimmering shield surrounded Dee.

Reaper sighed with relief.

Now he was free to focus on what needed to be done.

Between them, the werewolf was outmatched, the healer's last spell flowed over the creature; the sand beneath its feet seemed to be rising up, binding itself to the werewolf like a second skin. The beast tried to howl in fury, only to find its mouth filling with stone and grit. It coughed and struggled. Its movements slowed as the spell's effect intensified. It took one final strike at Reaper a slow swipe of its claws that had been far too easy to dodge. Finally, all movement ceased, its eyes clouded over with sand, the werewolf creaked and cracked, as its muscles finally gave up the fight.

A new statue now stood in the courtyard of the old ruins, one of the most life-like statues of a werewolf one would ever find.

Seeing its last ally fall, the burned wolf leapt out of cover, it made for Dee, either for a hostage or to avenge its fellows. Reaper and Aneirin moved to cut it off; in its wounded state it had not been able to reach its prey before the paladin and the healer, even if it had managed to batter down Zath's shield.

The beast snarled, yet it fell back as its enemies advanced.

It was at that moment that a howl split the air, Reaper looked up as another werewolf leapt out of the ruins, and landed just behind their remaining ally.

The paladin smiled cruelly.

Grey Eyes had returned; if the remaining monster had been expecting help from its lady, it was clear that that help was not coming.

It was alone, three against one.

Not good odds for anyone.

The remain wolf whimpered, it swatted weakly as it tried to back away, tried to find a way out. The Grey Eyes wolf was battered and bloody from its fight with Lady Tanda, but it was still likely more than a match for the badly burned beast whimpering before them.

Finally, in a moment of desperation, the werewolf snarled and leapt at Aneirin, trying to punch a way out. Grey Eyes tackled it to the ground, his teeth sinking into the injured monster's throat. Reaper stabbed the creature several times for good measure, just to make sure.

All fight went out of it then, the creature twitched and fell still.

The paladin let out a tired breath. Had these creatures worked together they might have been in trouble. Andraste had truly been on their side today, either that or it had been just dumb luck.

"Everyone okay?" he asked, "Anyone hurt?"

"I am uninjured," the healer said.

"I'm fine," Zath shouted back.

Grey eyes growled and sat up.

He met the paladin with the pale gaze that had given him his name so long ago.

"Cooome," the wolf said morosely, "Therrre is not much timeee."

Reaper and Aneirin followed as the werewolf padded back into the ruins. Zath stayed outside to keep an eye on Dee, and make sure that nothing else might try to surprise them. Though clearly injured, the werewolf did not ask for healing, the hunter seemed to think what he had to show the paladin was more important.

The ruins opened up into a large main hall, down a tall staircase they found what the werewolf wanted them to see. At the base of the staircase lay the Lady Tanda Forester, no longer a wolf, but a human girl, a girl bloodied and scarred from the fight, she lay on the ground, trying to breathe.

Reaper paused before her, looking down at the puddle of blood around her. It looked like she might have been impaled on something during the fight, impaled, but managed to pull herself free. Though that freedom had come too late, it seemed.

Reaper had seen many dead and dying on his journey.

The lady did not have long he feared.

Grey Eyes padded up beside her, despite everything that had happened the werewolf looked as sad as any beast could be.

"Tannnndeee," he whimpered, "I'm…I'm sorrrreee."

The noble coughed.

"It is not fair," she said through bloody lips, "not…fair. I…I should have…have had it all. I was…was the eldest…the eldest you…you see."

She let out a shuddering breath a breath that turned into a bloody cough.

"Damn you Wulfe," she said with tears in her eyes, "And…and damn my family too!"

The hunter shied away if struck.

Aneirin approached.

"I could try to heal her," he offered.

"The lady laughed a laugh that turned into a cough.

She grinned savagely.

"Heal me so that I can burn for what…what I've done? No…no…better this…this way."

She glared at Reaper.

"If only you…you had done what…what asked. I…I could have had it…had…it all…all."

She shook her head, tears stained her cheeks, blood leaked from her mouth.

"Damn you Daddy," she murmured, "If…if only I had been born…born a man. I would have showed you…you strength. I would have…showed…showed…shoooooo…"

That light faded from Tanda Forester's eyes. Her head lolled to the side. Her body stilled with one final shuddering breath.

Silence descended. Reaper whispered a quick prayer for the sad and troubled girl at his feet. He asked for mercy, though perhaps she deserved none.

Grey Eyes raised his head and howled mournfully. The sound echoed off the chambers lonely halls, halls that had once sheltered the werewolves of this forest.

Once there had been many, now there was only one….

…and again…he was alone.


	14. The Judgment

**Chapter 14: The Judgment**

The storm came upon them as the last of the bodies were thrown onto the funeral pyre, the grey skies opened up and the rains began.

By then the werewolves were mostly bone and ash. The last of the corpses went to the flames missing a head, so that Reaper could bring it back to the village and show the people that the danger had passed. Since the flames had come from Reaper's hands, the downpour did little to stop it from burning away the last traces of Tanda Forester's tragic ambition.

Fire cleanses, the chant of light says, and in this instance at least, the chant was right.

Fire cleansed.

As for the lady herself, the hunter built her pyre himself. She would not lay with her men, he would not allow that. He said nothing as he worked, asking only that the paladin and his allies leave this matter to him. It was private…personal.

 _He needed to see the woman he had loved off by himself._

Despite everything that had happened, and everything the girl had done, Reaper and the two elves agreed to honor the hunter's wishes. They watched as he scooped the girl into his arms and carried her off one last time.

Reaper had led Dee back to the small campsite in the ruined courtyard. Once there the two elves tended to their injuries. Reaper's wounds were those expected after a battle, no matter how brief. Cuts, burns and bruises, all easily dealt with through elven healing magic. Aneirin tended to him, while his apprentice saw to Dee, bruised and battered as she was, Dee more than welcomed the boy's help.

Dee was understandably, a little self-conscious, at first. Tanda Forester had snatched her from her room in nothing but her nightgown and a robe. She did not know this boy, and was…understandably concerned as his fingers drifted over her injuries.

"Hold still, Milady," he said softly, "Let the magic do its work."

He worked quickly, speaking only when wishing to know where she might be injured. She answered plainly, and no sooner had she said the words that she felt healing magic flowing over her, sealing cuts and accelerating the healing of bruises that would have been with her much longer if left to heal on their own.

Despite his youth the boy proved a skilled and able healer. She had never doubted the usefulness of magic when it came to healing wounds, and was not above giving credit where it was due.

With healers like this, she thought dryly, I may be soon out of a job.

It was clear that the boy had learned well from his master.

He knew what was expected of him.

When Grey Eyes returned, he informed them that there was one more thing that he needed to do before they could rest, to make sure that none of them had been infected with the curse that Tanda and her minions had carried in their blood.

He needed to make sure that they would not change into wolves as well.

Dee listened as the hunter tended to them each in turn. Listened as the werewolf declared each of them "Clearrrr," in is rough gravelly voice. When it was her turn, Reaper instructed her to hold out her hand. The hunter needed to smell it, to determine if she was infected.

She did as he asked, though she could not deny a sense of trepidation. She remembered the strange scent of the lady and her men, she could still smell it, and was afraid that it was coming from her now, that perhaps the beast's claws had changed her.

Her hand shook as she felt the werewolf's mussel touch it. The cold wet nose, sniffing her fingers.

She had to resist the urge to shy away, even at that moment; she feared that those jaws might come open and snatch her wrist in their grip.

"Don't fearrrr," she heard him say, "Noooo hurrrt."

She swallowed hard, trying to be brave, to ignore all impulse to pull away.

"I'm not afraid," she murmured, "I'm not."

Her heart skipped as she felt the werewolf pull away, he said nothing at first, and she feared what that pause meant, finally she heard it…

"Clearrrrr."

Dee almost sobbed with relief.

"Praise the Maker," she heard her knight say; she felt strong calloused hands pull her to her feet, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

She felt his lips on her forehead, his breath ruffling her hair.

"Thank the Maker."

Dee hated to admit it, but she enjoyed this, this embrace, even the fact that her knight was still armored did not take away that joy. The smell of him, his breath warm on her face.

Her bodied warmed as her head rested against his broad shoulder.

Part of her wished that they were here alone. As her fingers drifted up to Reaper's face she could feel his heartbeat in his neck, it was fast…excited. If only they were alone, that guilty little part of her brain brought up, and then she could truly thank him for her rescue. They could find a quiet corner just for themselves. The two of them could…

Dee blinked.

 _Whoa there!_

The sister shook her head, pulling away quicker than she would have normally.

"Is something wrong?" Reaper asked, his voice sounding confused, and perhaps a little hurt.

"Nothing," she said quickly, fighting to slow her breathing, to clamp down on any physical excitement that his embrace had caused…

Be careful, her conscience chided, many a person has done something foolish after a life or death situation, the moment has been known to take away a person's sense of self-control. You don't want to do anything you will regret later. Your vows, remember your vows Sister Daelle.

It was natural for a woman in her early twenties to feel desire and lust, but you are also a sister of the chantry…remember that.

Remember.

She sighed, back in control of herself.

I'm fine, Reaper." She assured him, that dark part of her mind that desired more than simple friendship from the knight screaming that she had denied it.

We can't, she thought, my vows, I…I must remember my vows.

Down Girl.

She pulled closer to him then, but only so that they were only touching arms, she would not risk such intimacy again, not until she had full control of her emotions.

Down girl.

Only the thunder caused them to separate, that and the first drops of rain, a sprinkle really.

A sprinkle that soon turned into a deluge.

Wulfe Grey eyes, once again in his human form, led Reaper, Dee and the two elves down into the ruins. He brought them to the main chamber where the Lady of the Forest had once dwelled, where she had soothed the rage of her people, and let their personalities reemerge.

Dee knew of this place of course, she had heard Leliana speak of it many times over the years. A beautiful green grove, she had called it, all but hidden between crumbling rock and stone.

A sad smile touched the girl's lips.

She felt a sense of tranquility here, the smell of growing things, the gentle chirp of insects, the gurgling sound of water as it flowed into the chamber.

 _A beautiful place_ , Leliana had said of it, _beautiful but isolated…lonely._

Dee regretted the fact that she could not look upon it herself with her own eyes.

Reaper led her to the most comfortable spot in the great chamber; she sat down near the water, where she could rest. The feel of moss and clover between her fingers was soothing after the manic trek through the forest, held hostage by what she now knew to be a pack of werewolves.

Reaper was of course; still concerned, seeing her bruised and bloody was not a something that he enjoyed.

"Are you sure you are okay?" the paladin asked her for perhaps the fiftieth time.

"I'm fine Reaper," she reminded him with a soft smile.

"I'm tougher than I look."

"Never doubted that," she heard him chuckle, "I'm just glad that I was able to reach you in time. I had hoped that when I mentioned our little problem in Lydes you would get the idea of what I wanted you to do."

"I remembered," she said.

When the paladin had mentioned the bandits back in Lydes, she remembered very well what had happened. Reaper had not saved her that day; in fact, she had had to save herself. The two of them had been settling in for the night, just having made camp when the thieves had come upon them. Reaper had been hobbling the horses, and the two men must have thought a blind chantry sister was easy prey.

She had proven otherwise.

By the time he had returned to aid her, one of the men was retreating, and the other man was writhing on the ground in pain, as Dee had struck him over and over with her whitewood staff. The man had crawled away after that, she did not think she had done any permanent damage, but the man would not soon forget the price he paid for his attempted crime.

 _Fighting bandits is one thing,_ she thought to herself, _werewolves were quite another._

Thunder rumbled overhead, the waters that flowed into the chamber gushed as the downpour continued.

Dee was grateful for the rain.

It would wash whatever wickedness remained here away.

She sighed as she reached out with her hand. She thought she could hear the water gurgling; the small pond that flowed into the chamber was before her Reaper had said.

She felt the cool water. She cupped it, splashing her face, washing off the dirt and blood of the day, and then bringing a cupped handful to her lips, the taste was sweet on her tongue.

"Many times did I drink from here as a pup."

She pulled back quickly. She had not realized that Grey Eyes had returned; the hunter had a lighter step than even the two elves.

She feared that he might hold these waters sacred, or something. Perhaps he would not want someone using them for so common a means.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I did not realize that you had returned. I was thirsty and…"

"I take no offense," the young man replied, "What is water if not to cool us and as a means to quench our thirst."

She heard him sit down beside her. She heard splashing, it sounded like the man was washing.

"When I was small," he continued, "I would try to catch the small fish that swam about this pool. I would dip my snout in the water, but no matter how fast I was those blasted fish were always faster."

The hunter chuckled.

"My antics amused the lady; she commented that perhaps I was more heron than wolf."

He laughed again.

"It was rare when our lady could find amusement. I was more than happy to oblige."

Dee laughed lightly.

"So you are both a bit of a jester and a hunter?"

"When it suits me," he replied.

Dee laughed again.

She would not think such a fierce being could sound so…warm.

"You truly loved her, didn't you?"

"I did," he responded, "We _**all**_ did, the lady was not only our protector and teacher, but mother to us all."

She heard the hunter sigh.

"She left us so that we could have our own lives, but for me, it was different. I was born into the pack, not bitten. For me…when she left…I lost everything I knew."

Dee frowned.

"You were not bitten like the others?"

"No," he said, "My mother _**was**_ bitten. She had only just learned she was with child when she was attacked. She turned, and the lady did what she could for her, though she feared that I would die in the womb. The change is extremely hard on the body. I should not have survived."

"But you did."

"Yes," he sighed, "I was born not a human child, but a small werewolf pup. My mother did not survive the birth, so the lady took it upon herself to raise me, her and the other she-wolves of the pack…"

Dee considered that, trying to imagine werewolves teaching a child of their own, a creature that knew nothing before the curse in its blood.

"I was different from the others; even then, I did not feel the pain that the curse caused them. For the first nine years of my life I hunted as a forest beast, avoiding the humans and elves that passed through our forest. I knew little of the world outside this place, and in truth, I did not really care to."

"Then the hero of Ferelden came," Dee added.

"Yesss," the hunter hissed, "the warden."

"I don't blame the warden," he said, "Our lady asked for help against Zathrian. When she was gone, we all changed back into what we were before, or rather…the rest of the pack did. I was a human boy, though I was not quite sure what that meant. One of the women who had been changed offered to take me with her, to finish raising me."

Dee frowned; she could hear the sadness in his voice.

"What happened," she asked.

The hunter sighed again.

"I soon learned that I had the power to change back into a werewolf, the power was mine to change when I wish. The lady who took me in grew scared that I might change _**her**_ back; she had no desire to return to what she had been. She sent me away to the village chantry, eventually, I came back here. I came home."

The hunter let out a shuddering breath.

"I turned to hunting to support myself. I was good at it I discovered, and why not? I had hunted often with the pack, even in my youth. I sold the pelts of animals I took, and became well known in the village. Well known enough that I caught the attention of the Lord Mayor of Forest's End, and his children. That is when I met Tris and Tandy…perhaps I should have stayed in the forest."

Dee reached out, trying to take the man's hand, to offer comfort if she could. He did not take it; perhaps he felt he was unworthy of comfort.

She frowned.

"It wasn't your fault," she said.

"Tandy and I grew close," he continued, not bothering to take her hand. We were… _intimate_ in this very cave a few weeks ago. It was afterwards that I discovered what had happened, that I had passed what I was on to her. I offered to teach her, like the lady had done for me and the others, help her hold onto the human, but to embrace the wolf as well. I told her stories about the lady, tried to make her understand that what had become of her was nothing monstrous, but a gift.

"Tandy had her own opinions of what she could do with what I had given her. She started speaking madness, of becoming the new Lady of the Forest, of expanding the pack and making the surrounding villages and towns ours. I tried to convince her of the foolishness of this plan, but she would not listen…"

The boy growled in the back of his throat.

"She would not listen."

"From what I heard her say, it is clear that she had ambitions larger than being a mere mayor's daughter, ambitions that had taken root long before the two of you met."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "But it was I that gave her the curse. It was I that gave her the means to make her mad desires a possibility. You told me that the lord may was dead?"

"I can't say for certain," Dee answered, "Lady Tanda said that she had retired him, perhaps I'm wrong and…"

"He is dead," the hunter said flatly, angrily, "I got him killed, just as I got Tris killed. I may not have done the deed myself, but I am to blame. She could not have done such things without me."

"Perhaps you are right," she heard Reaper say from somewhere behind her, she noticed then a familiar sound, the rasp of a whetstone sharpening a blade.

Reaper's blade.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Reaper," she gasped, "No."

She heard the hunter sigh again.

"Perhaps it is better that the curse ends here. I'm as much a member of Tandy's pack as those fools we destroyed in the courtyard."

There was a brief pause, a pregnant pause.

"Perhaps I should go and be with Tandy and Tris."

"What is going on?" she heard Aneirin say, the elf had likely not been paying much attention to conversation by the pool. Perhaps he had finally noticed the tension; perhaps he realized then that Reaper was sharpening his blade.

"You can't Reaper," she told her knight.

"Why not," he answered his voice cold and hard, as cold and as hard as it always was when he was about his dark work.

"Is it not my mission to make sure that evil does not spread, that it is contained?" he asked her.

"Would you kill someone because they were born different," she demanded, "Isn't that way of thinking what the Divine has us fighting against? Isn't that the reasoning used when a Templar condemns a mage?"

"Wise words girl," she heard Aneirin say, "But Ser Reaper has a point as well."

"Master," she heard Zath say, "You cannot mean…"

"Grey Eyes was touched by evil," he continued, "Zathrian's evil, perhaps it would be better if that evil not be given the chance to grow again. Perhaps it should end here."

Dee heard a tired sigh, Grey Eyes? She could not say for certain.

"Perhaps it is better this way," he said, "I can be with my lady again, with Tandy and Tris…"

"What happened wasn't your fault!" Dee said quickly, hoping to sway her knight from this course. Did he have a point? Perhaps, but that was not why the Divine had sent them here.

They came here to find a murderer, and that wasn't Grey Eyes.

He did not deserve to be punished for another's crime.

Reaper said nothing, she could still hear the rasp of whetstone and steel, her knight remained silent, considering his next move.

"You knew what Grey Eyes was when we first met, didn't you Aneirin?" he asked the healer.

"I knew," the elf admitted, "As I told you yesterday, it is possible for evil to touch something, but not to rule it. I can see the value in ending it, perhaps it would be better if this last vestige of a Dalish born curse die in this chamber, but is it worth the life of an innocent man? Is Grey Eyes even innocent?"

She heard the elf sigh.

"Perhaps that is a matter best left to the gods, or the Maker."

"I will accept your judgment," the hunter said sadly, "Once again I find myself alone, and this time by my own hand…I…I will accept your decision, if I am to die, so be it."

Reaper paused in his work. For once Dee wished her eyes worked, so that she could see the expression on her knight's face, determine what he might do, and that she might sway him from any rash decision.

She heard the sound of a sword being sheathed, and Reaper sigh.

"Some would say it is my duty to end this," he admitted, "That I should consider what might happen in the future and take steps to prevent it. Perhaps I should, perhaps that would be better, but Dee is right as well. Wulfe Grey Eyes did not kill anybody. It would be wrong to punish him for the crimes of another."

"But the curse," the hunter said quickly, "I could…"

"You could," the paladin agreed, "But I don't think that you will. You have learned a dire lesson today. The only crime you are guilty of is falling in love with the wrong girl, a crime too many men are guilty of, and are equally free of blame. You will be more careful in the future with what lives in your blood, I think. One day, hopefully, you will find one who will accept you and your gifts; I hope you will at least."

She heard her knight rise; Dee felt a surge of pride, when she grasped what he was saying.

He was making the right choice, she thought.

Perhaps not the safest, but the right one.

"You could have stood aside when the Lady came, but you didn't. You could have joined her, but you didn't. You gave me a chance to save my partner, myself, and those who aided me. I will not punish you for the way you were born. You are not a monster ser, you are a hero."

Reaper paused then, she heard Grey Eyes rise.

"But the danger," she heard the hunter say.

"If there is a threat, I will return and deal with it, that is my job, but for now, I will not harm you. You were innocent in this. You do not deserve to be punished."

She heard the werewolf breathe a sigh, of relief? Dee could not say.

"I've lost everything, my love, my friends…"

"You have lost friends," she heard the paladin say, "But you have gained one as well, in me."

"And in me," Dee called out.

The young man deserved to know he was not alone.

She heard a sound metal and leather meeting, a handshake perhaps?"

Dee smiled.

Thank you Reaper she thought.

Thank you.


	15. The Road

**Chapter 15: The Road**

Reaper and Dee finally said goodbye to Forest's End. The two rode out of the village the way they had come in, the Paladin on his charger and the priest on her gentle palfrey, the guideline connecting the two horses allowing the knight to guide the sister's mount without the two of them having to share one.

He risked one last look at the tiny village. He could not say that he was not glad to see it go, this mission had taken far more time that he liked, but at the same time he recognized the fact that he could not simply abandon the people here. The actions of their lady, her dark plans had left the place on the verge of chaos.

He owed it to them to stay and make sure things were on the right track before setting off again.

He glanced over at his partner, Dee had a serene look on her face; she looked utterly at peace with herself and the world. That…and she seemed pleased that they finally had put this latest task to a close.

The paladin sighed.

He wished he shared her confidence. The werewolf threat here had been neutralized, but that did not mean all the danger had passed. A new lord now sat in the Forester family's tower house, the cousin that Dee had heard the lady mention during their journey to the ruins. The Revered Mother sent word to the boy's father, as soon and Reaper and Dee had returned from their journey. The paladin had been tempted to have chat with the old priest about giving up Dee to Lady Forester, but his partner had intervened on her behalf. "What was she to do," she reminded him, "did she have any Templar blades around to protect her or me?"

 _No_ , he acknowledged grudgingly, he still did not like it, but he held his tongue, and asked for the priest to send word to the late Lord Forester's younger brother.

His son now had a village to govern.

The young man seemed able enough, and he had wisely brought his own men, making sure not to keep any that might have been tainted by Lady Tanda's dreams of darkness and conquest.

It was not going to be easy for him, the paladin knew. He had done all he could to make sure the transition of power was both quick and easy, but the world in which they lived still held many dangers. Plus the Templars had **still** not returned, or sent word of when they would. Guards were good he knew, but having chantry support, and steel, to back up a young lord's claim always made such times easier, especially for the small folk. Dee had sent a request to Denerim for men to come and replace the missing Templars, but her letter had gotten no reply.

What that meant, the paladin could only guess.

He knew he could not stay, the Nightingale would say that the two of them had stayed too long as it was.

It is not your place to decide the next course of action for these people, his conscience chided, sounding more like Sister Leliana's voice than his own. You have given them a chance, now they have to make the best of it. Your job was to save them from the monsters in their midst, which you have done.

The next step is up to them.

He nodded, he knew that to be true, still... he worried, he had grown…fond of some of the people here…yet he recognized that he could do no more.

We've done all we could, he thought grimly.

What comes next is beyond us.

"Reaper?"

He turned.

"Yeah, Dee."

His partner's expression had changed, she looked…concerned.

"Do you think that Grey Eyes is going to be alright?"

"He should be," the paladin responded.

"He was still hurting though, mourning the loss of Lady Tanda."

"That hurt won't go away all at once, but it will go away, with time."

Dee frowned.

"I just hope that in his pain he does not turn down a path that he shouldn't. It is not easy being alone. Perhaps we could have seen him safely somewhere else? Perhaps we…"

"Dee," Reaper said his voice turning to steel.

"Yes?" she said.

He sighed.

"We can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"This," he repeated, "We did everything in our power for Wulfe. We offered to see him somewhere else, but he refused, the Brecilian Forest is his home after all, we did not have the right to take him out of it."

"But being on his own; knowing what his love did, it will not be easy for him to live with…"

"No it won't, but he is not alone. Aneirin has agreed to stay close for a time, if Wulfe needs something, I'm sure our elven friend will do what he can to help."

Dee sighed.

"I hope so," she said, "I…I guess all we can do is keep Grey Eyes in our prayers, and ask for the Maker to watch over him."

"I suppose so," the paladin agreed.

What else could they do?

IOI

After the battle with Tanda and her pack of monsters, Reaper and Dee had returned to Forest's End, with Wulfe Grey Eyes in tow. Reaper had asked the elves to join them, but Aneirin had worried their presence would only make matters worse. The villagers near the forest had little love for the Dalish and any who would choose to live among them.

No, it was better that they stay back.

The villagers had been understandable skittish when Reaper rode into town with the hunter at his side. The Lady's fearmongering might have caused the poor man to be mobbed right there if Dee had not spoken up in his defense.

She called out for the people to rejoice. That the monster that had killed their young lord was dead, and all was safe again. That Ser Reaper and his ally the hunter Wulfe Grey Eyes had been forced to work together to save them all from the threat that had risen from the past.

Most of people had looked skeptical, at least until Reaper had tossed the head of one of the slain werewolves at their feet.

That simple act had turned thing around considerably

It was amazing how quickly some people could adapt to a good story and a bit of evidence.

What they told the good people of Forest's End was the truth, for the most part. Reaper had entered the forest on their lady's orders. He had found the hunter Grey Eyes and after a brief chat the two men had realized that they were being manipulated. The hunter took the paladin to the ancient ruins, where they might confront the evil, and clear the young man's name. While at the same time, their lady had taken her men and, with Dee in tow, gone to aid the hunter and the paladin.

They had both arrived to discover that the monster had been far closer than anyone had realized. One of the lady's guards had become afflicted with the curse of the werewolf and had attacked the two parties when they reached its place of power. Lady Tanda had fallen, as well as the rest of her men. They had died bravely though, and their sacrifice had given the paladin the time and opportunity he needed to strike the beast a mortal blow and save them all from once again living in the shadow of monsters.

That was the story they told the people of Forest's End, and it was quite good, Dee agreed.

She almost believed it herself.

Naming the lady a hero had been Wulfe's idea. Grey Eyes did not wish to hear the people of Forest's End cursing the name of the woman that he had loved. Despite everything she had done, he still cared for her, and would probably have saved her if he could.

Reaper had agreed to the story because he had not wished to see any problems arise from the lady's actions. Had the villagers realized what she had been planning, the people might have started questioning the rule of her family, a rule that, with the exception of Lady Tanda, actually had been a fair and honest one.

Let it end here, Reaper had thought, Tanda Forester was dead, let her evil die with her. The story they had told about the ruins at the Forest's heart being a place of power for werewolves would keep the locals away, giving Grey Eyes time to heal, and the solitude he needed to live his life.

It was the least the paladin could do for the poor fellow.

Of course, that did not mean that Reaper would simply leave without making sure that the evil here had ended with Lady Tanda. He had no desire to see another werewolf take up her cause. For that reason, he and Grey Eyes had sought out the Lady's remaining men, just to make sure that the evil she had tried to spread had not taken root in any of those left behind. Of the six guards remaining, and the household staff, most passed without a problem.

The lady's seneschal had been another matter.

A squirrely, twitchy little man, Reaper had not really liked him when he had first arrived in Forest's End. He had limped after his lady like a lame old hound, and had spent the entire meeting nodding every time the lady had said anything. The man was a sycophant to be sure, but that had not been enough for Reaper to do anything at the time.

Now he had a reason to dislike him.

The man had not been happy when Reaper had strode into the tower house and even less happy when he saw Grey Eyes at the paladin's side.

The man paled, his mouth fell open.

"You," the man spat at the hunter, "You are supposed to be **dead!"**

"Well, he is not," Reaper said coldly, his eyes flickering with the flame that still burned inside him.

He grabbed the man and threw him up against the wall. The man squealed with surprise, trying to reach for his dagger, Grey Eyes came up beside him and ripped it from his hand, the hunter's eyes glowing, heralding the change.

The paladin glared menacingly.

"But you may be if you don't tell me exactly what I want to know!"

That had been all it had taken to make the Forester family Seneschal…cooperative.

He told Reaper everything that he wanted to know.

"I didn't know what was going to happen," the scrawny, balding Seneschal cried, "My Lady told me to tell Lord Tristan that Serah Grey Eyes wished to see him at the forest's edge, to discuss a matter of importance."

The man whimpered.

"I did not know what was going to happen."

"So you led Tris into a trap," Grey Eyes growled, "What did you think Tandy was going to do?"

"He was her brother," the man snapped back, "How was I to know."

"What of the lord mayor," Reaper asked, "Did you not know what was going to happen to him too?"

"His lordship's health was not good; even before all this," the man admitted, "When the young master was killed he took to his bed. Two nights before you arrived our lady dismissed the healers; she chose to sit with him for the night."

"Let me guess," Reaper said, "He no longer breathed the following morning."

The man swallowed hard and nodded.

"He died in his sleep, Milady said," the man added quickly, perhaps not wanting to be linked with another murder, "She thought it wise not to let anyone know, not until the matter of young master Tristan was dealt with."

The man glared at Grey Eyes.

"The lady was to give me her gift," the man spat, "After you were gone. She said it would heal me, make me strong again."

He shot a withering glance at Reaper.

"If only you had just done your job."

The paladin's eyes narrowed.

Grey Eyes sniffed the man, to make sure that the lady had not turned him too. Finding that the man was human he nodded to Reaper, who nodded in return.

He returned the Seneschal's glare.

"Count your blessings that she did not," he told the man, a sly smile on his face, "If she had well…I could use another wolf pelt, you would have made a fine coat."

The man swallowed hard again, fear shown in his eyes.

Reaper was not above using fear when it suited him. He found that it often worked better than violence.

He would rather not hurt someone if he could avoid it.

In the end, Reaper had been merciful to the old bastard. He let him retire from House Forester's service, without further punishment, but warned the man if he made any trouble for Grey Eyes or this village Reaper would return and see the man dealt with as an accessory to his lady's crimes.

The Seneschal had agreed and left the village begrudgingly the day after the new Lord Forester arrived. The rest of the ladies men had also been released, with the understanding that they leave the village forever.

It might have seemed harsh, but Reaper preferred not to take any chances.

He had no desire to return here to finish something that should have been finished during his first visit.

He wanted to make sure it was over.

Though he was now known as a hero in the village, Wulfe Grey Eyes chose not to stay. It had been Tristan and Tanda Forester who had tied him to the place, now that they were gone; he thought it better to return to the woods. He knew nothing of the young lord, and had no desire to be caught up in any politics that might arise from the new lord's presence.

The day he left he embraced Dee and shook Reaper's hand. The three parted as friends, with Reaper reminding him that if he ever needed help, the hunter could reach him through the chantry.

Grey Eyes nodded, though he doubted that they would ever see each other again, after everything that had happened he was eager to leave his humanity behind for a while.

"Things are simple for a wolf," he told them, "I need that simplicity right now."

With that the hunter had returned to the woods

Dee and Reaper made for Aneirin's camp, to say good bye to the only other people that truly knew what had happened here.

He did not think he had anything to worry about from the elven healer. Aneirin knew the value of secrets, and how to keep them.

IOI

"You're awfully quiet."

Reaper blinked. He had been lost in thought, he realized, he looked up and saw the king's road rising in the distance.

"It is fine," he said quickly, "I…I was just thinking."

The sister tilted her head inquisitively.

"Feel like sharing?"

Reaper grimaced. Trust Dee to detect the hitch in his voice.

He sighed.

"It is nothing," he said, "Just eager to reach the next village. We need to check Sister Leliana's dead drop. She may have another task for us.

Dee nodded, her unseeing eyes focused on the distant horizon.

"I'm sure she will have something," the sister said, "Not to mention that she will wish to hear our report on Forest's End."

Reaper nodded.

The Nightingale would want to know what happened, if she did not know already. Of course this was not what was occupying his mind. It was his last conversation with Aneirin…what they had discussed…

This was one of thing that he did not feel like sharing.

It was safer that way.

Reaper and Dee had arrived in the elf's camp to find the two getting ready to move on again. Aneirin was welcoming, but Zath had fallen into a sullen silence. The only time he smiled was when Dee addressed him.

The paladin had asked the healer about that.

Aneirin had chuckled.

"What is wrong with my apprentice? What one might expect from a sixteen year old I suppose, that and…"

He lowered his voice so not to embarrass the boy, so that only Reaper could hear.

"I fear he may have a bit of a crush on your Sister Daelle," the elf admitted. "He would not admit it of course, her being human and all, but…I think it is safe to say that perhaps he is starting to see the beauty in humanity."

Reaper chuckled.

"I'm not surprised," the paladin admitted, "Dee has that effect on people."

Aneirin gave him and old fashion look.

"You speak from experience?"

Reaper sighed.

"Unfortunately."

That got the elf's attention.

"Why unfortunately?"

Reaper gave him a pained look.

"Dee…Sister Daelle…she is not some mere lay sister, she is a fully affirmed sister of the chantry."

"I see," Aneirin said, "So she has taken vows?"

"Yes," Reaper said shaking his head.

"That is why I say what I feel is…unfortunate."

The healer nodded.

"That being said," He added, "Does she care for you, as much as you care for her?"

He gave the elf an arched look.

"I don't know, but…what makes you think that I care for her? In that way…?

"The way you look at her, the rage in your eyes when you saw that she was in danger. The way she seeks to be close to you when she does not need to be."

The warrior pursed his lips.

"It is forbidden," he said.

"But it would be understandable."

"Maybe," he agreed, "But it makes it no less impossible."

The elf's ears twitched.

"Impossible, or is it merely improbable?"

Reaper shuddered, his hands curling into fists.

He did not wish to have this conversation. He had grown to like the elf; he respected Aneirin, but…

This was not something he wanted to discuss.

"She is my partner," he said flatly. "She is probably the best friend that I ever had, the only one I can remember anyway."

Aneirin gave him a knowing look.

"The man that finds a partner who is both friend and lover is most fortunate."

"We are not lovers," Reaper said quickly.

Perhaps," the elf said, "but would you resist if she asked that of you?"

Reaper winced.

He feared…

He feared…that…

He swallowed hard.

If she asked, he did not think that he would refuse her.

He felt his temper rising, he wanted to tell the elf to mind his own business, to punish him for bringing up such…forbidden thoughts.

A lesser man might very well of done just that, a common Templar might have done that to an uppity mage.

Reaper was not such man; he kept his temper in check.

Aneirin was a friend.

He would not do anything to jeopardize that friendship.

Reaper sighed.

"There is nothing I can do," he said sadly, "Dee is a daughter of the chantry, a bride of the Maker. We can be friends, but that is it…period."

The elf gave him a sad look.

"Unfortunate," he said, "Most unfortunate indeed."

"Isn't it though," Reaper said.

He cursed under his breath.

The chantry, as it stood today, would never allow him and Dee to be anything more than friends. The Divine could release her from her vows, he supposed, but he doubted that Dee would ever do that. She owed everything she was to the chantry.

He doubted that she would give it up for anything, or anyone.

Better to forget such desires, he thought, cast them down and lock them away where they will never see the light.

It was better that way…for Dee…

…and for him.

"Perhaps you have been alone in the wilderness for too long," he said changing the subject, "Perhaps it is time to visit one of the Dalish clans that live in the area."

Reaper smiled gently.

"Zath might benefit from meeting with a few elven girls his own age."

Aneirin nodded.

"Perhaps you are right," he said, "I will consider it."

He smiled and offered the paladin his hand.

"It has been an honor working with you Ser Reaper Burning Blade."

The paladin chuckled.

"Reaper Burning Blade?

It sounded fearsome.

"And you as well Aneirin the Healer," he said, "May your gods smile on you."

The healer nodded.

"May your Maker watch over you…always."

IOI

Reaper was grateful as their horses once again found their way onto the king's road. If they kept their pace, they would likely reach the inn they had stopped at on the way here by early evening. It would give them a chance to send off a message to the Nightingale, and hear more of what was going on in the rest of the world.

The rumors they had heard their last night in Forest's End, rumors that had come from an Orlesian trader had been…disturbing to say the least.

Word of war in Orlais, of the Dales in flames, that and strange rumors out of the chantry. Rumors that the mages had found a cure for Tranquility that they were talking of leaving the chantry…

Madness, Reaper thought, the Circle had stood behind the chantry for hundreds of years.

Justinia would not simply let them break away; the Templars order would not simply let them breakaway.

Reaper sighed.

Rumors are rumors, he thought, just words. The Nightingale would know the truth of the matter. If there were any problems between the Circle and the Templars, the Divine would deal with it.

She would take care of the larger problems, while Reaper, Dee, and others like them took care of what was left.

The chantry has stood for almost a thousand years. It could not simply fall apart.

The faith would continue, he thought.

It will endure, and with the Maker's grace it always would.

So let it be.

 _ **A/N: This ends the first story arc of Faith and Desire. Dee and Reaper's journey is not over, if you would like me to hurry with the next chapter, shoot me a review, you know I love them. Until next time dear readers!**_

 _ **DG**_


	16. The Sundering

**Chapter 16: The Sundering**

" **THE MAKER HAS ABANDONED US!"**

The cry sent every sister and mother in the hall into an uproar. Accusations flew, insults were thrown, and a wave of despair swept through the great chamber.

The Grand Cathedral had been in chaos for days, so much so that the Divine had called this meeting, gathering this conclave of all the sisters and mothers still serving here, a meeting she hoped might bring some order back to the faith, and begin the first steps on this new and uncertain road.

Dee shook her head. She and Reaper had only arrived last night, having come by ship from Amaranthine in Ferelden. The roads through the Dales were not safe right now, and even if they were reports of Templar patrols attempting to contain any trying to flee the capital had put the entire city on a knife's edge.

The Divine had already received reports of rogue Templars attacking travelers. These men and women were little more than bandits, foraging for wealth and weapons as they prepared for their first true strike at the mages who had fled the White Spire. Word had also come of the death of Lambert Van Reeves, the Lord Seeker who had caused this mess by deciding to abandon the Nevarran Accords. That death had brought even more chaos to an already unstable situation. No one could truly say who was leading the Templars now. It was rumored that the Seekers who had left had elected Seeker Lucius Korrin to take Lambert's place, but that had yet to be confirmed…

In the meantime, between the fear of rogue mages and Templars, the Civil War between the Empress and her cousin Grand Duke Gaspard, Orlais had all but lapsed into anarchy.

Dee shuddered slightly.

 _It truly did not take much to make everything fall apart._

"Sisters," The Divine called out, from her place on the dais, "Daughters of the chantry…fall silent."

Still the cacophony continued, after everything that had been heard in the last few days, it was not surprising that priests of the chantry were suffering from a crisis of faith.

Sister Daelle, or Dee as she was known to her friends, frowned, though she could not see the panicked display, she could almost feel the sense of loss, the terror at all the changes that had occurred in only a matter of a few days.

 _Changes a long time coming,_ the blind sister thought to herself, _we have been on this path since Kirkwall, maybe even before that, when Divine Beatrix left us._

Her frown deepened.

Why was she the only one that seemed to realize that? Why could a blind woman see more than all these many leaders of the faith?

During the Blight she had faced true horror. She had been in Denerim when the darkspawn finally forced the gates, she had heard the Archdemon roar as it flew overhead, felt the heat of the fires its servants had set. She had survived those dark days, losing both her mother and her sight. She had almost given into despair, but then…a hand had reached out through the darkness and given her a new purpose, a chance at a new life. The chantry had saved her, or rather; a single member of the chantry had saved her.

That member, Sister Leliana, now stood next to her, she had been the other woman's student and protégé for almost a decade now…

She heard the angry hiss, and the hard click of her mentor's boots as she stepped up to address the rest of their fellow sisters.

When she spoke, her normally gentle musical voice cracked like a whip.

"THE MOST HOLY HAS CALLED FOR SILENCE!" she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the chamber.

"YOU **WILL** HOLD YOUR TONGUES!"

The sisters and mother's fell silent, shocked by the usually soft spoken Left Hand of the Divine's angry words.

Dee smiled slightly.

Normally Sister Leliana let her actions speak for her, if the sisters were not careful they might learn exactly what that meant.

"Most Holy," she heard her mentor address the Divine in her most soft and polite voice.

"The floor is yours."

"Thank you Leliana," the Divine said.

Dee heard her mentor's steps as she returned to her student's side.

The Divine began again.

"My friends," the Divine began, "We live in troubled times. Orlais is splintered by civil war, chaos reigns throughout the Dales, and now we face challenges of our own."

"The Templars have abandoned us," Dee heard Mother Hevara cry out; "they have annulled their treaty with the chantry and left us!"

"The mages could attack at any moment," a voice Dee did not recognize shouted, "Who will defend us if magic comes to these hallowed halls?"

"The mages will _**not**_ strike at Val Royeaux," The Divine assured them, "As for the Templars, we are not without defenses, many brothers and sisters did not answer the Lord Seeker's call, they still serve, and will protect this holy place against any transgressor.

"Many is not enough," Dee heard Leliana murmur under her breath, "For every twenty Templars that fled, only one or two stayed."

Dee digested that for a moment.

They had warriors true, but with so few left the chantry would not be able to protect its holdings against anyone, whether they been Templar, mage, foragers, or even common bandits.

It was news that did nothing to bolster her courage.

How many defenders stayed in the Cathedral?" she murmured to her mentor.

"Fifty seven," she heard Leliana answer, "Not enough to hold if we are attacked here."

Dee pursed her lips.

It was possible they could summon more men from elsewhere, but that would leave other places undefended. How many chantries would fall once the world realized how weak the faith had become? How many of the Maker's houses would be pillaged and burned as the fire of war spread?

Dee did not even want to think about what that meant.

"Your Perfection?"

Dee turned her head slightly, another voice she did not recognize.

"Yes, Mother Margos," the Divine answered.

The woman sighed.

I heard a rumor the other day, one of the sisters recently arrived from Haven. She mentioned that the guardian had vanished and that he has taken the Ashes of Andraste with him…"

That set the chamber off again.

"What is this?" Mother Hevara hissed.

"The guardian cannot do that!" another mother cried out.

"He has no right; Andraste belongs to all of the faith!"

Again the crowd grew agitated. Dee blinked with surprise.

She had not heard this. The guardian had fled Haven?!

It sounded impossible!

"We have heard this as well," the Divine answered loudly, "We have also heard that before the…incident in the White Spire, several representatives of the Seekers of Truth journeyed to the Temple, and sought to speak with the guardian."

The Divine paused, to Dee it sounded like she did not wish to say what happened next, but, considering everything that had happened was now resigned too.

"It is believed that these men tried to seize the ashes, perhaps under Lord Seeker Lambert's orders," the Divine spat the man's name, letting anyone who was truly listening know how she felt about what had come to pass thanks to the man's…ambitions.

"We have been in contact with the priests that served in the temple. They have confirmed that the guardian has fled, and taken the ashes with him…"

Before the crowd could explode into another uproar the Divine spoke quickly.

"Considering the threat to the Ashes, I agree with the guardian's decision. It is better the ashes are safe than in the hands of those who would use them as a symbol to oppose everything that the chantry has stood for. I ask only that you all keep the guardian in your prayers, both for his safety, and for the safety of the remains of our prophet."

The priests grumbled unhappily, but for the moment they seemed appeased.

Dee considered that a good thing, one crisis averted.

Now they had to find their way past all the others.

Dee digested that news.

The Guardian had fled, and taken the ashes with him.

There were those in the faith who would not be pleased with that news.

It might even fracture the chantry further.

We will need to be more careful; Dee thought to herself, we need to control these rumors before the faithful start to question what is going on.

How they were going to do that, Dee was not sure.

News such as this was not easy to contain, and when it got out, the chantry needed to be ready.

Her thoughts turned to the guardian, there were those in the room that would call the ancient knight's move a betrayal. After all they were all servants of the chantry were they not? Dee was more pragmatic.

The Guardian had never been a member of the chantry, he predated it. If anything his loyalty was to the company of freedom fighters that first followed Andraste out of the south, the same men who had fled with her ashes out of Tevinter.

She understood why he had done what he had done, but at the same time, part of her was angry. She had always hoped that one day she would be permitted to test her faith in the Gauntlet, the path that led to the Ashes of Andraste. She had hoped to prove herself worthy, and that she might be able to take a pinch of the ashes for herself, ashes that just might have the power to do what the magic of mages could not…

A mage had told her once that it would take a miracle to restore her sight. What were the ashes if not a miracle made real?

Knowing that they were gone, lost to her, it was…painful.

Pain and I are old friends, she though, I have endured in darkness this long. I can continue, and who knew…perhaps the guardian would return if they found some way to end this conflict.

She nodded to herself.

She would double her efforts to this end.

She listened as the Divine explained what had occurred since the college of Magi had been summoned to the White Spire. Lord Seeker Lambert had strongly opposed the Divine's decision, but had not had the support to oppose her. What he did have however, was the fear and respect of the Templars. The Enchanters had been summoned to discuss tranquility, but that discussion had ended with the death of the elf that had discovered the supposed cure for tranquility, and the Lord Seeker having the Templars arrest the members of the college, thereby preventing them from voting for independence from chantry rule, or causing any further mischief.

What followed next was… _disturbing._ Dee probably knew more about what had happened because of her relationship with Leliana. The mages managed to escape the white spire, with a little help from her mentor and her ally Wynne. The Lord Seeker found out of course, and blamed the Divine for not supporting the Templars' decision to stop the mages before they could do something dangerous.

He responded to this by declaring the Nevarran Accords Null and void. The Seekers of Truth and the Templars would break away from the chantry and deal with the mages their way.

Dee had heard the letter the man had wrote, his declaration that the Divine was incapable, and unwilling of his or the Templars loyalty.

Reaper had not been surprised. They had first learned of the Lord Seeker's letter while waiting to take ship in Amaranthine. Reaper told her about his impression of the Lord Seeker, how the man seemed to believe that great change was coming.

If this is what he had meant by great change, than he was no better than the rogue Templars that Reaper had seen hanged over the last year.

In fact her knight found himself looking forward to pursuing Lambert for this treason.

Some people deserve forgiveness, and some people deserve to dance at the end of a rope," he had said grimly.

It was not something that Dee would have expected to come from Reaper; he had always supported those who stood with the chantry. That the Lord Seeker had earned his ire was proof that this was more than a mere dispute between the Divine and leader of the Seekers of Truth.

Reaper clearly wanted the man dead, and apparently, and ironically, he was not alone.

Ironically enough, Lord Seeker Lambert had turned up dead the very night he had sent his letter to the grand cathedral, he had been found in bed, his throat opened up by a dagger. The Templars blamed the mages, that they had used foul magic to enter Lambert's chambers, but Dee suspected a less grandiose explanation.

She believed that the Lord Seeker had been assassinated by one of his own men, perhaps some overly ambitious fool who did not believe the man capable of fulfilling his promise to defeat the mages. Whoever the culprit, the Templar order had been left leaderless. The mages who had assembled at the Fortress of Andoral's Reach had scattered, and now the order stumbled along as it sought new direction, unsure of how to use the independence that the Lord Seeker had forced upon them, and unwilling to accept that they had made a mistake in following Lambert into war.

Reaper had been disappointed, he would have seen to the Lord Seeker's demise himself had the Divine ordered it, but he did not think that it would end with Lambert. There were still plenty of corrupt Templars out there, eager to fill the man's boots.

It would likely fall to him and Dee to deal with them, but that was for another day.

Now the chantry had to make its next move, and it needed to be a clever one.

Now the chantry needed to figure out how best to respond. Surely not all of the Templars wanted war, and at the same time there were likely mages who would return to the Circle if given a proper chance.

What came next would be the Divine's decision. The chantry did not have the strength to force either the Circle or the Templars back into line. If the Faith was to endure this crisis, it would need to strike by other methods than sheer brute force. That was the Templars way.

The Chantry would need to be more cunning.

As dee considered this she heard footsteps approaching.

"Sister?" she murmured to Leliana.

"One of my agents," her mentor informed her, "Pardon me a moment."

Dee nodded and waited as the Nightingale spoke with this newcomer. Dee had no idea who it was of course, she could not hear what was being said, and Leliana had not given her the agent's name.

When her teacher returned, there was something off about her steps.

"Dee," she said solemnly.

The blind sister felt a shiver go through her.

"Yes?"

"There has been an incident."

"Another one," Dee said dryly, fighting off a nervous laugh.

"What has happened?"

"Dee…"

"Sister please," she said quickly.

"Tell me."

Her mentor sighed.

"Reaper has been attacked."

Dee's eyes widened.

"What?!" she gasped.

"He lives," Leliana added sharply, "But he was injured, the man who assaulted him is dead."

The blind sister's heart pounded like a war drum.

Reaper was injured, her knight was hurt.

"We must go to him."

"His wounds are being tended…"

"I have to go to him," Dee insisted, "He needs me!"

She had not realized that she had been raising her voice. So much so that she had gotten the Divine's attention.

"Is there a problem Leliana?" the Most Holy asked.

Dee wanted to snap that yes there was a problem, a big fucking problem, but her years of training stopped her.

One did not curse in the Divine's presence, not if one wished to stay at her side.

"Sister Daelle and I must excuse ourselves Most Holy," her mentor said, "Something has come up that requires our attention."

"Then by all means see to it," the Divine responded, "We must all do our part to fulfil the Maker's will."

"Thank you Most Holy," Leliana said, Dee felt her mentor's hand on her back, making her bow, a bow that the Nightingale had also offered to their leader.

She felt Leliana's arm around hers, guiding her out of the chamber. Dee heard the Divine address the priest again, but she did not hear what was being said.

Reaper had been injured.

He had been attacked within these walls.

She immediately suspected one of the Templars who had stayed behind. Who else could have gotten close enough to hurt her knight, and if it was not one of them, then perhaps it was someone loyal to them, a sister or brother who supported Lambert's misguided grasping for power.

Dee's empty eyes narrowed.

Fear turned to rage, rage and the desire to avenge her knight.

If the Templars _**had**_ been responsible for this, then she would do everything in her power to make sure they answered for it. She would help Reaper recover, and then they would go on the hunt.

The Templars had much to answer for, even if they had not been a part of this cowardly attack.

They had let their fear and greed sunder what had stood for almost a thousand years, and now…now they tried to murder a loyal member of the faith inside the Grand Cathedral itself.

 _They will answer,_ she thought, _Reaper and I will make sure they answer._

Sister Leliana said he was alive, injured, but alive.

Whoever was behind this would regret it.

They would regret it…dearly.


	17. Scars

**Chapter 17: Scars**

He had spent the last three days in a strong wine haze. His injuries tended by Dee and her fellow sisters. Once those injuries would have been considered minor, it would have been only a matter to send word to one of the healers that dwelled within the White Spire, a mage could have seen his wounds healed in a matter of moments.

Alas, no more mages lived within the white spire, the Circle driven off by the Lord Seeker and his men, and so the paladin had to deal with stitches, healing salves, and strong wine for the pain.

Reaper frowned, both at the rage that had been lit in his heart, and the pain even a simple frown brought him.

His whole face throbbed, despite the salves the sisters had applied, his stitches itched terribly, yet he dare not scratch unless he open his wounds again. Blinking, swallowing, frowning, smiling, even a simple nod brought discomfort.

You did it to yourself, his conscience chided. You weren't watching and you paid the price.

He cursed his stupidity; even after everything he had seen during his journeys beyond the walls of Grand Cathedral he still had doubted that corruption could hide anywhere. He had not suspected that hidden among the faithful were agents of their enemy.

Well, lesson learned, he thought, quite painfully too.

The Divine had summoned him to a private audience. Dee had worried he might not be up to it, that he should spend another day at rest. The paladin had dismissed his partner's worry. The wounds, though painful were not deep, though they weren't pleasant by any means.

The whole right side of his face was red, the stitches were not pretty to look at either, three ugly red marks held together by black string.

He nearly punched the looking glass when he had seen them for the first time, those marks. They were a sign of weakness.

Reaper sighed.

Those wounds would heal, but they would leave scars, scars that he would carry for the rest of his life…

…And all because the cowardly attack of a traitor.

The assassin had struck from behind. A Templar who Reaper had shared a meal with not two hours earlier. When it had come; Reaper had exchanged his normal armor for the robes of a chantry brother, not wishing to draw attention to himself. Unfortunately, he _**had**_ drawn attention, and that attention had nearly gotten him killed.

His would-be murderer, a Templar named Ser Reginald of Verchiel. A red bearded jovial man who had done his best to keep up the spirits of the brothers they had sat with at morning meal, now watched coldly as Reaper walked past him. The paladin had been coming out of morning prayers, Reginald had been given guard duty, and had stood at the door as Reaper, along with dozens of other brothers and initiates had filed out of the chamber. Brother Francois, a grey bearded, slender man with a good heart and weak knees, had led the service this morning, what with the sisters and mothers all meeting with the Divine, and he had done a decent job in leading the chant.

Reaper had been conferring with the brother when Ser Reginald had charged him. The dagger at his belt now rose over his head.

"FOR THE ORDER!" the assassin had shouted.

Reaper spun, the flash of steel filling his vision.

So great had been his surprise that he had stood frozen, like deer before the charge of a lion.

Brother Francois who had been walking with him, pulled him back, and in doing so likely saved the paladin's life

The dagger's cut had not been deep, just enough to draw blood across his throat.

Screams filled the hall, shouts for guards that were simply not there. Brother Francois dove at the Templar trying to stop him. Ser Reginald back handed him, flinging the man aside; he lunged again. Reaper raised his arm, trying to shield himself, the knife sliced open his forearm, as the Templar pushed the attack the dagger caught the paladin again, slicing him over the right eye and across the cheek.

Blood flowed down into Reaper's eyes, and as his vision turned red, the fury exploded in him like a bonfire.

 _Bastard,_ he thought.

 _ **Murdering traitorous bastard!**_

Reaper may not have been armed, but he was not defenseless, he had his Templar training, and the gifts that the guardian of the ashes had given him.

It was these gifts that he called upon now.

Reaper reached out, with his power, his hand raised, he found the lyrium that coursed through the Templar's veins.

He reached out with the flames, and the lyrium in Ser Reginald's body ignited.

What happened next was almost a blur.

The assassin dropped his knife, he fell to the ground screaming, writhing as if touched by a torch.

Reaper stood over him, his fury hotter than Andraste's pyre.

He glared down at the fallen knight. Holding up his hand, willing the fire to burn, hotter and hotter and hotter!

"I yield," the assassin shouted, "I YIELD!"

Reaper snarled angrily.

"Yield?" he hissed, "You spill blood in these hallowed halls and now you want to yield?"

The paladin's eyes glowed with holy flame.

"I don't think so."

He continued to pour heat into the man.

And the assassin continued to scream and scream.

Smoke began to roll out from the Templar's breast plate. He tried to get it off, to put out the flames that were tormenting him. Yet, this fire could not be quenched. It was the lyrium in the man's body that was burning, not his flesh…

…not yet, anyway.

"Why," Reaper demanded, "Why did you do it?"

At first it did not seem that the man had heard, but then he glared up at the paladin, his eyes filled with hate.

"For our murdered brothers, traitor!" the man spat, "You hang your own kind!"

Reaper spat at that, he was starting to feel dizzy; blood was pumping from the cuts on his face and arm.

It was his rage that kept him standing, righteous fury and the desire to see this man answer for his cowardly attack.

"I hanged criminals, traitors," Reaper growled.

He smiled savagely.

"Just as I now kill you."

He turned up the heat.

The assassin's hate turned to terror!

"No," the man gasped, "You can't kill me! The Divine! Take me to the Devine! I surrender! I am your prisoner! I surrender!"

Reaper nodded.

"I accept your surrender," he gasped, "Now…BURN!"

He closed his fist.

Ser Reginald's beard burst into flame his Templar armor turned cherry red from the heat. The man's body caught fire; his screams were quickly choked as smoke rose from him.

The would-be killer cooked in his own armor.

The smell of death and burning meat filled the hall, several initiates ran, another vomited in the corner.

When the burned man stopped twitching Reaper collapsed to his knees.

Brother Francois, now bleeding from his nose ran to his side, shouting to get help, to find a healer.

The world spun and turned dark.

Reaper let himself fall into that darkness.

The fire was waiting for him, yet he was not afraid.

He was not afraid of fire.

Fire cleanses.

IOI

When he rose for his meeting with the Divine he had decided against wearing the robes of a brother. Instead he had chosen to wear a shirt of black ring mail over a heavy black leather gambeson., the cloak he had chosen was charcoal grey, and adorned with the sunburst mark of the chantry. He was forbidden a sword in the Divines presence, but wore his belt and scabbard anyway. His bandaged wrists protected by heavy gloves with steel plate guards in the wrists.

Had he been dressed so the day of the assassination attempt he might not have been cut so bad, he might have been able to put up more of a fight had he been clad in more than simple robes.

Initiates and priests scattered as he past, nervous glances and fearful whispers followed his steps. Word of Ser Reginald's death had apparently spread while he had been recovering. As he had lain in bed he had listened to some of the rumors that followed the attack. Apparently it had taken a day and half for the assassin's body to cool down enough that it could be removed, even with another Templar trying to dispel what Reaper had done to the man.

A waste of time, Reaper thought, what he wielded was not magic, not in the usual sense, nor was the ability of a Templar or Seeker.

Reaper was…unique.

Now the Grand Cathedral knew just _**how**_ unique.

Part of him feared what that might mean.

He had slain an enemy in the Grand Cathedral, an enemy that had been trying to surrender. He doubted that the Nightingale or the Divine would be pleased with that.

The thought shamed him.

He had lost control, he had no excuse. He would not blame blood loss or pain. He had been both enraged and insulted by the man's attack and now…now…

His fingers curled into fists.

Now he needed to answer for his actions.

What would the Divine do? He wondered. She could exile him he supposed, but would she? Perhaps she would order him imprisoned in the cells beneath the White Spire. Was that not where they sent murderers in the old days of the Empire?

Whatever happens, he thought to himself, he would do everything he could to shield Dee from this. It had been his actions that had caused this, his, and his alone.

He would not let his partner ruin her life trying to defend him.

He would not allow it.

The initiate that had been tasked with bringing him before the Divine said nothing as they made their way, finally when they came to a heavy oak door the girl stepped aside, and motioned the paladin forward.

"The Divine is within, Milord," she said, "You are expected.

Reaper nodded, the "Milord" thing was new, but then again, he hardly looked the priest now did he, and if the girl had been there when Ser Reginald had died she, like everyone else, might think him more than some chantry servant now.

He sighed.

Perhaps he was no longer a servant of the chantry? Perhaps this is where the Divine would dismiss him, send him away for his crimes, that or have him imprisoned.

The thought almost made him shudder, but he pushed such fears away.

He would not go begging for mercy, he was afraid yes, but a man could not be truly brave without tasting fear.

"Thank you, sister," he said softly, moving past the girl. He knocked twice, and the door opened.

The paladin stepped inside.

He found himself in a small solar, lit by a massive hearth, large windows of painted glass colored the room in shades of pink and gold. The Divine sat in a single chair before him, a cup of steaming tea in her hand. Sister Leliana and Dee stood to her left, serving as he attendants for this meeting.

Despite the pain he was in, Reaper smiled at seeing his partner there. Once again she was clad in the formal red and white robes of the priest hood, her blond hair hidden beneath the habit and small black hat of a sister of the faith. All but that one stubborn lock of blond hair that never seemed to obey no matter what Dee did with it, it curled gently out of the cloth sitting just to the right of her right eye, her eyes once again covered by the scarf she wore here in the capital to hide her empty gaze.

Reaper had to resist the urge to go to her, to affectionately reach up and tuck that that stray lock back beneath her habit as he had done several times during their journeys together, but he dare not risk it.

He did not want the Divine to think her complicit in what he had done today.

He hoped that Leliana knew what she was doing, bringing Dee here. If this meeting went bad for him, he was not sure if she would be able to hold her tongue... If she tried to defend him, if she spoke up for him things might go bad for her as well.

He drew hope from the fact that Leliana had her hand around his partner's arm. He hoped that she would intervene if needed, for Dee's sake if nothing else.

To the Divine's right stood an intense looking woman in black armor. Her raven hair cut short like a man, with only a small braid acknowledging her femininity, her cheek was scarred, not as bad as his was now, but had clearly tasted a blade sometime in the past.

Her dark eyes bore into him, dissecting him perhaps, evaluating him. The mark of the Seekers of Truth adorned her breastplate. If one did not know history, they might have been surprised to see a Seeker here, considering that Lambert had taken the order and fled with the rest of the Templars.

Reaper did not have to guess who the woman was, the Seekers might be in open rebellion against the chantry now, but there was one who had always chosen the faith above her order, she showed that twenty years ago, by saving Divine Beatrix from a dragon attack, a girl of only six and ten, yet she had won for herself the title of Hero of Orlais.

No Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand of the Divine would not have left the Chantry easily, or at all.

Reaper dropped to his knee, he bowed his head in submission.

"Most Holy, Seeker, Sisters" he said respectfully, "Agent Reaper reporting."

He waited for the condemnation to begin.

"Arise dear boy," Divine Justinia said, "We would look upon your face."

Reaper did as he was bid; he stood up and met the Divine's gaze.

If his wounds troubled her, she did not show it.

"So," the Seeker said coldly, "This is the young man you found in Haven, Leliana?"

"It is indeed," the Nightingale answered, "He has proven himself quite useful since."

"Indeed," Cassandra said, crossing her arms, "I have seen the body of Ser Reginald. What was done, that was not the abilities of a Templar, or even a Seeker."

The woman frowned at him.

"I can imagine how _useful_ he truly is."

Reaper did not take offense to the chill in her voice.

Dee looked like she might be about to speak, but Leliana pulled her back, Reaper saw her fingers curl around his partner's arm, reminding her to remain silent.

The paladin was grateful for that.

"I have no excuse for my actions," he said, "I lost control."

The Divine winced as if pained.

"No excuse," the divine said nodding grimly, "You would not have **needed** one had we been more vigilant. The betrayal of Ser Reginald disturbs me greatly."

The old woman frowned.

"We trusted those that stayed behind when the Lord Seeker's letter arrived. We believed that they stay out of a desire to defend the faith," she shook her head; "It seems that we were wrong."

"I have searched Ser Reginald's quarters," Casandra said, "I had hoped to find some evidence of him having conspirators who are still with us. So far I have turned up nothing."

She gave Reaper an arched look.

"It would have been better had you let the man live. He could have been interrogated, saved us much trouble."

"Would you have been so merciful Cassandra?" Leliana asked, "Attacked by one of your own while coming out of prayer?"

The Seekers brow furrowed. The fact that she had not simply responded with an answer showed that she as at least considering her fellow hand's words.

"Today…yes," the Seeker admitted, "When I was Agent Reaper's age, probably not."

The Seeker shrugged.

"I was always too brash back then."

The Divine chuckled.

"Recognizing our faults are the first step towards true wisdom," the Divine said, "Or so I have heard."

Cassandra smiled slightly.

"If that is so, Most Holy, then I still have a very long way to go."

Reaper did his best to keep his face neutral.

So far, this meeting was not going as he was expecting.

With the Divine and both her hands in attendance, he had expected this to be a sort of tribunal, with these women acting as his Inquisitors. So far, it did not seem that way.

In fact he was not sure exactly what was going on just yet.

The Divine regarded him again, this time looking more closely at his face.

"Do your injuries pain you much, dear boy?" she inquired, "Will you be fit to return to duty soon?"

"Pain is the warriors friend and teacher, Most Holy," he responded, "thought to be honest, I was not sure that I was still worthy to walk among those who serve the Maker."

Leliana snorted at that.

"We live in uncertain times, dear Reaper," she said, "The Circles have dissolved, the Templar Order in open rebellion…"

"Now is not the time to be throwing away a loyal man simply because he acted both in haste and in the heat of the moment," the Divine added, "Leliana believes that you are worth salvaging, if you had not been, you would not have survived the flames of Haven and been returned to us."

"If punishment is required," Cassandra said, "It will be assessed later, after we have dealt with the crisis that currently grips the chantry."

She gave him a hard look.

"How you behave in the coming months will determine if that punishment is necessary, and of how severe it will be."

Reaper nodded.

A second chance then, he thought; it was more than he had offered Ser Reginald, but at the same time it was not something he would throw away lightly.

The chantry, what he had sworn his life to was in danger.

He would do what he could to weather that storm.

"I am your humble servant, Most Holy," he said bowing his head, "I will not hesitate in your service."

Justinia smiled slightly.

"You would not be here if I suspected that you would dear boy."

The Divine leaned back in her chair. She took a deep breath and centered herself.

Then…she began.

"The matter of the mages and Templars needs to be settled," she said, "Though I opposed the Lord Seeker's choice to arrest the college of magi in the White Spire, I cannot simply sit back and do nothing while the mages and Templars slaughter one another."

Reaper blinked.

Had it gone so far already?

"Has the war grown that quickly?" he asked.

"A few skirmishes here and there," Cassandra answered, "I still have a few friends within the Seekers who are willing to send reports on what is happening."

"My agents confirm this as well," Leliana said, "Circles throughout Thedas are crumbling. Templar forces have annulled several of them, without chantry permission of course."

Reaper considered that.

"How many Templars remained loyal?" he asked.

"Not many," Leliana said, "Lord Seeker Lambert's promise of independence and a new distribution of power, have stirred many greedy hearts among the Knight-Commanders."

The Divine sighed, she shook her head morosely.

"Lambert," she said under her breath, "Damn the man, Lady Seeker Nicoline should never have named him her successor. His adventures in Tevinter, his aid of the coup that put the current Black Divine in power, the man should never have been given such a high position."

Cassandra shook her head.

"She saw his new found fervor as a virtue, not a vice Most Holy."

The Divine sighed.

"He chose to condemn the Circles here because he could not punish the one in Tevinter, or the Black Divine. He lashed out because he blamed the mages because he, Lambert Van Reeves, had trusted the wrong man," she said flatly, "And he saw Kirkwall and the White Spire as an opportunity to redeem his failure in Tevinter. That and to gain more power for himself, to fix what he saw as corruption. He wanted power, power that he should have had after aiding Divine Urian in taking his throne."

Reaper said nothing as the women discussed this. He had not known Lambert, having only met the man once, and had not heard of him "adventuring" in Tevinter.

What had happened in the past, though relevant, was no concern of his.

He was a sword of the chantry. He was her weapon.

He would deal with what the Divine pointed him towards.

She turned to him then.

"Leliana has spoken favorably of you Ser. She says you work best on your own, and can accomplish much if given the freedom to act as you see fit."

Reaper dropped to one knee again.

"I am yours to command."

He glanced up at Dee; she stood there with an amused expression on her lips.

No doubt she had thought as he had, that this meeting was called to punish him. Now it seemed that the Divine was giving him a chance to help restore the faith to its proper place.

He welcomed that opportunity.

Left unchecked, the mages and Templars would scar all of Thedas with their war.

He was prepared to act, to make sure that did not happen.

He smiled slightly, ignoring the pain of his stitched up face.

He would do what was necessary.

Whatever it takes.


	18. Justinia

**Chapter 18: Justinia**

Dee stood quietly and listened as the Divine and her allies discussed their future plans.

When she had learned that the Most Holy wished to speak with Reaper about what happened when he had been attacked, she had insisted that she be there. She had not been sure what awaited her partner, and wanted to be there to aid him if things went badly for him.

Leliana had insisted that that was not necessary, but her student had remained adamant. Too often she had been forced to sit and wait while her knight went into danger.

Here, in the chantry, she could help; she could lend her voice to his. It was more than she could do usually.

The sense of relief that washed over her when both the Divine and Seeker Cassandra had excused what had happened, it was…wondrous, like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Though the Hero of Orlais had said that some punishment might be required later, Dee was confident that she and Reaper could do enough good for the chantry to make such a sin irrelevant as they all moved forward.

Dee glanced over to where the Seeker stood, though she could not see the other woman she found her mind drifting back to all the stories she had heard about Cassandra Pentaghast. Many young women in Orlais looked to her as a symbol of just what a woman could do when it came to matters of the sword. Some looked upon her more favorably than the legendary Ser Aveline the Brave. Dee remembered playing at being the Seeker as a child, fighting apostates, dragons, and demons and saving the empire with both sword and faith as her weapons.

This was, of course, her first chance to meet the woman in person. The Seeker had been polite when they met, but cold. Her legend spoke of a sense of fairness, and a desire to do what was right, no matter the cost. Yet, Dee had still feared for Reaper, when she learned the Seeker would be attendance when the Divine spoke with him. She had no desire to see her childhood hero, punish the young man she had come to care for so deeply.

She gave thanks to Andraste and the Maker that the woman had not insisted on punishing him for acting in the heat of the moment after his attack. She was grateful that both the Seeker and the Divine realized that they needed every sword they could muster in these troubled times.

The Chantry needed men like Reaper, and would continue to do so, if it was to survive.

"When Kirkwall happened," the Divine began, "When poor Elthina lost her life, there were many that accused this office of not doing enough to see justice done. The Templars said I did nothing to punish the mages, and the mages blamed me for not stepping in sooner to halt Meredith Stannard's madness.

The Divine sighed heavily.

We cannot afford to make such a mistake again, and yet, we find ourselves in a difficult position. We cannot stop the circles from breaking away, and we cannot command the Templars to return to their duties."

"Nor do we have the numbers to enforce a military option, Most Holy," Cassandra reminded her, "The few Templars and Seekers that remain could not stand up to either the circle, or the Templars if it came to a battle."

"A battle is the last thing I want Cassandra," the Divine said, "I had hoped to turn us away from this path…"

"I was in the White Spire, Most Holy," Leliana reminded her, "I aided the mages the best I could, and followed them to Andoral's Reach."

Dee's mentor sighed.

"I had hoped that the vote that night would consider your actions, but the Libertarians call for war was too strong, and even if it wasn't, it is safe to say that the Templars would not have backed down, not after Kirkwall, and the whole cure for Tranquility discussion, even more so now that Lord Seeker Lambert is dead."

Dee considered her mentor's words.

It was too much to hope for that the zealous Lord Seeker's death would help restore peace. In this case, cutting off the snake's head had not killed the body, if anything the snake had transformed itself into a hydra, and was now even more dangerous.

All those different Knight-Commanders, all working with different agendas, Lambert's lieutenants might be able to hold things together for a while, but for how long? Plus, if a single Templar or Seeker did manage to force the Templars back under a single leader, who was to say that that man or woman would be any less zealous and cruel than Lambert Van Reeves had been?

"Perhaps we could build an alliance of faithful?" Reaper suggested.

"Explain dear boy?" she asked.

"Send word to the pious lords and kings of Thedas. Ask _**them**_ for aid. If enough allied together, then we might have the might and power to force the Templars back into your service. Once the order is leashed again, it should not be a problem to renegotiate a deal with the Circles to return."

"And if the Templars refuse to return?" Cassandra asked.

"We _**crush**_ them" her knight said flatly, "We execute the ring leaders and beat the arrogance out of the order, force it back into its role of servants."

Dee winced at that

She understood why Reaper made such a suggestion, after what they had faced with their dealings of the various corrupt Templars, it was easy to see why beating them into submission would appeal to Reaper's warrior sensibilities.

"As I said," the Divine reminded him, "I do not wish to tear Thedas apart by fighting with the Circle and the Order, and even if we could build this alliance of the pious, most of the lords that would respond only have a few knights to offer, the rest of the force would be made up of small folk with pikes and pitchforks, do you think that such a rag tag force could defeat a battle hardened Templar army in the field?"

"And there is another danger in that plan," Leliana reminded him, "Orlais is already at war, the empire battles itself, weakening all sides, such an alliance on our part would weaken the lords and kings we need to keep the enemies of Thedas at bay, we dare not weaken the borders of those who would ally with us. It would leave all of Thedas vulnerable to an attack by the Qunari or Tevinter."

"I…I had not considered that," Reaper said after a long pause, his voice sounding chagrinned, "I will not voice such opinions in the future."

"But you will, and you must," the Divine said, "We asked for your counsel and you gave it. That is the service we expect. We need to hear all options if we are to weather this storm."

Dee smiled.

It was amazing how easily Justinia could turn a rebuke into a compliment. She dismissed Reaper's idea, but still praised his honesty.

Truly the Most Holy knew how to play the game of politics as well as any lord or king.

"We cannot weaken Thedas by expanding the war," the Divine said, "Nor can we sit idly by as poor Elthina did, we cannot simply sit back, pray, and hope things will all work out. We must act while there is still time, but we need to be more subtle…"

The Divine paused, when she spoke, it was to her Left Hand.

"You were at Andoral's Reach, Leliana. Tell me how determined the mages were to fight?"

"The libertarians were spoiling for a fight, many of them have waited for this day, even I cannot deny that. The Aequitarians voted for war, but that is because they believed that they had no other options.

"Not entirely unexpected," the Divine sighed.

"My agents have reached out to the members of loyalist fraternity," Leliana continued, "After the flight from Andoral's Reach; most of these have sought safety, either with their families or in fleeing into isolation."

"Could the Loyalists be drawn back into the Circle," Cassandra asked, "Would they support the Divine's cause?"

"Hard to say," Leliana said, "If the chantry offered succor and sanctuary, some may agree to come back, especially now that the Templars have broken away from the Nevarran Accords."

"Any such alliance would be dangerous," Reaper said, "As the Most Holy stated, we do not have the numbers to protect ourselves much less the loyalist mages. The Templars would no doubt see this as taking a side in their war; they would probably view this as a further act of betrayal from the Divine. They may even strike against the chantry under such conditions."

"Your young man has a point Leliana," the Divine agreed.

"Would the Templars be so brazen as to attack the Grand Cathedral?" Cassandra snorted.

"I suppose it depends on who takes Lambert's place," Leliana said, "If it is a fellow Seeker who shares his vision…the rest of the order might follow such a person's lead."

Dee heard Cassandra snort angrily, her mentor had a point, but it was not a wise one.

Cassandra Pentaghast no doubt did not wish nor needed to be reminded of her order's role in the Templars' defection.

Whether it was courage or foolishness Dee spoke up quickly hoping to prevent the two women from arguing further on this point.

"We need to strike at the Templars," she said, "Give them something else to focus on besides who is an enemy beyond the mages."

The room fell silent. Dee felt suddenly that all eyes were now on her.

She blushed.

"Do you have a suggestion on that matter Dee?" Leliana asked.

The blind sister swallowed hard.

 _Perhaps you should not be so brazen_ , her conscience chided.

Perhaps, she thought, still it was not as if she was completely ignorant of the Templars and the corruption that had brought the chantry to this point.

She had seen enough with Reaper over the last year to know what the Templars coveted, control over the mages yes, more power and independence for themselves, true, but what truly drove them, what did they desire more than faith or power?

She smiled.

"Lyrium," she said confidently, "The answer we seek is lyrium."

"Lyrium," she heard Reaper repeat, he sounded amused, or pleased.

She heard him chuckle, and it was not a pleasant chuckle either.

"I like it."

"Explain, Sister Daelle?" the Divine ordered.

"The Most Holy should speak with the dwarves. It is their lyrium that enhance the abilities of the Templars. If we can find a way to cut off the supply to the order, we may have a chance to force them back to the negotiating table."

"The Seekers have no need for lyrium, sister," Cassandra reminded her; "they lead the order now, and would not be affected."

"But their soldiers _would_ , and **will** be," Reaper said in an excited voice, "I have seen what lyrium withdrawal does to a Templar, both in mind and body. If we were to cut off the supply…"

Dee shuddered.

She remembered what lyrium withdrawal did too, confusion, weepiness, paranoia, not to mention the smell, the rank sweaty smell of desperation.

To a blind woman, that was not something one forgot.

"Would the Templars simply not turn to the Carta?" Leliana said, "Your reports in the last year suggest more than a few in the order is involved in lyrium smuggling."

"Involved yes," Reaper agreed, "But _**not**_ involved enough to supply the entire order if that supply was to dwindle. The recruits would fare better, not having been on the dust for years, the officers and senior knights however…they would find such a loss… _troubling_ I'm sure."

That was an understatement, Dee knew, she had been with Reaper on that mission. She had experienced what lack of lyrium could do to a Templar knight. She and Reaper had dealt with an officer that intentionally denied his men their lyrium draft just to make them more fierce some and more willing to go to extremes when ordered.

By the time she and her knight had encountered them, one of them had been having hallucinations, lashing out at even the most minor of slights. Another had killed himself to make the pain of not having the dust stop.

Reaper dealt with the officer, and the men, once again firmly in the dusts embrace, returned to a more reasonable state, but Dee had not forgotten what it had been like, what not having lyrium had done to those men.

She could only imagine what would happen if the withdrawal took the Templars on a larger scale. They would still be dangerous, but not having their dust would be enough to make some of them consider that perhaps they had not entirely thought this business of war through.

"Such a move would not be easy," the Divine admitted, "The dwarven kingdom's lyrium trade is extensive, their nobles depend on those profits.

We don't stop buying then," Reaper suggested.

"Indeed," Leliana agreed, "The chantry has always purchased lyrium, both for circle and Templar use, we continue those purchases, but now we stockpile what we buy."

"And if the Templars try to raid our shipments," Cassandra asked.

"Then they look like common bandits in the eyes of the dwarven merchant's guild. If they harm any employees of the guild they risk making enemies of the dwarves, which is not a good idea if they desire to continue buying from them."

"An ugly move," the Divine said, "Many Templars will suffer if we do this."

"Yet it will remind them of where the power lays, Most Holy," Reaper said, "Who knows, you may even regain some Templars over this. It will be up to you then to decide if they deserve to be forgiven or not."

"We will also need to send people to secure the Circle's stockpile of lyrium," Leliana reminded them, "We cannot allow the Templars access to that cache if we cut off their main source."

"We will send out word to have the lyrium that was stored in the various circles sealed off or transported to more secure locations," the Divine said, it seems she approved of this plan, despite any misgivings about what the Templars would suffer.

"As for what is stored here in Orlais, we have already been contacted on that matter. Madame DeFer has already agreed to take possession."

Dee frowned slightly.

"Madame…Defer?" she asked.

"The First Enchanter of Montsimmard," the Divine answered, "First Enchanter Vivienne is also mage to the Imperial Court, and has gracious agreed to look after all Circle resources during this crisis."

"A First Enchanter," Reaper sounded surprised, "Why is she not with the other rebel mages?"

"She was not in the White Spire when the Lord Seeker staged his little coup, she was on business for the Council of Heralds at the time, and now resides in the Ghislain Estate here in the capital."

Dee tried to make sense of that, why would a circle mage simply abandons her flock and remain here? Though she had never met a First Enchanter, according to Leliana, most who held the post regarded their fellow mages as the children they had never had, and served more as a parent might than a simple political leader.

"Can she be trusted?" Reaper asked.

"We can trust her not to jeopardize her position at court," the Divine chuckled, "Madame Defer has worked hard over the years to build up her network of allies. She would not throw those connections away easily."

In other words, she is a courtier first, and a First Enchanter second, Dee thought, such people would always choose their political allegiance first, but then again, that was just what they needed now, wasn't it?

"Ser Reaper," the Divine said, "You will leave the capital tonight, Sister Leliana will provide with further orders enroute."

She heard Reaper's armor clatter as he came to attention.

"I'm yours to command, Most Holy," he said sounding more like a soldier than she had ever heard him sound before.

"Where will we be going?" Dee inquired.

The Divine laughed lightly.

"I do not know who sounds more eager, Sister, you are this young man you travel with."

Dee blushed and fell silent.

"You will journey back to Ferelden for the time being. Given the freedom that the Kinloch Hold mages enjoyed before this, due to their service during the Blight, the mages have more allies there than elsewhere. Templar forces will no doubt seek to deal with them first."

"We have heard reports of Templars marching through the Dales; so far, neither the Empress, nor Grand Duke Gaspard's forces have tried to hinder their movements. Neither wishes to incur the Templars' wrath while fighting enemies of their own."

"My agents will seek to make contact with the loyalists in Ferelden," Leliana informed him, "The two of you will be our emissaries should we need you to reach out to them."

"What about the dwarves?" Dee asked, "We will be closer to Orzammar than any other of your agents. We could visit the king; see if he is open to our desires regarding the lyrium trade."

"I will think on this," The divine promised, "We first need to determine where our own ambassador stands on the matter of the war. If he supports the Templars, it may become necessary for him to be…corrected."

Dee heard her partner chuckle.

"How far will this…correction need to go?"

"If that correction falls to you dear boy," the Divine said, "I will leave it up to your discretion."

The Divine sighed.

"Ser Reaper, Sister Daelle," she said, "We have asked much of you in the past, though I fear that it is nothing to what you will soon face. A war between Templar and mage will bring out the worst in both I fear. Let us all pray that we shall be successful, that our small actions and negotiations will help bring this matter to a swift close."

"And if negotiations fail?" Reaper inquired.

"We will need to go farther," the Divine said, "Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana are already preparing for that eventuality if it occurs."

"What sort of preparation?" Reaper asked.

Dee feared the Divine would tell him that it was none of his concern, but Justinia did not do that.

She sounded very tired when she answered.

"We will need to reach back to our past to protect the future," the Divine answered.

"Let us all pray that it does not come to that."

"So let it be, Most Holy," Dee said bowing her head in prayer.

"Yes, child," the Divine answered.

"So let it be."


	19. Lost

**Chapter 19: Lost**

Dee and Reaper's ship never reached port.

About a day's journey from Highever, a sudden storm came up. The winds ripped at the sails while massive waves crashed overhead, and lightning split the sky. The crew of the Merry Maid knew that all was lost, yet they fought to make it through the storm anyway. Dee, who had been staying out of the way below deck, had gathered up her things in case they needed to abandon the doomed vessel. The last thing she remembered before ending up along the coastline by herself was Reaper going up on deck, telling her to wait for him.

She wasn't sure what happened after that, only that the storm had gotten worse and…

The next thing she knew she was crawling out of the sea, soaked to the bone while the waves crashed around her and gulls screamed overhead.

How she had ended up in the water, she did not know. Had the ship broken up during the storm? Had anyone else made it ashore? Had the managed to make it to the one launch on board? She did not know.

All she knew was that she had ended up clinging to a large piece of debris, a door or a table, large enough to keep her mostly out of the cold water, and strong enough to carry her in with the tide.

She crawled her way up the beach, out of the water towards the promise of dry land. She spat and sputtered, shivering from the coldness of the water stinking of salt water and brine. She was not exactly sure how, but she **had** managed to save her bag of healing supplies, and her staff that had been strapped to her back.

 _At least I didn't lose everything,_ she thought to herself. As soon as she felt dry sand between her fingers she stopped and tried to stand, she ran her hands over her body, making sure that nothing was broken; she took several steps, to make sure she could walk if she needed to, so far so good on that front. She thought she might have a small cut over her eye though, she reached up and felt the burning pain of a wound, and when she licked her hand she tasted blood. She did not think it that bad, no blood was flowing down her face, but she would probably need to treat it just the same. She sank down into the sand, offering a quick prayer to the Maker for her survival, but that was when the realization struck her, the lack of sound around her, or rather the lack of sound of people...

A shiver went down the blind sister's spine.

She was alone.

She shouted three times, hoping to gather the attention of another survivor of the ship wreck, she heard nothing. She tapped her way along the beach, finding more and more bits of debris, the gentle snapping sound of a sail helped her find what was left of the ship's mast, the lines and fabric all a tangle after its fall into the sea.

A few feet from there, she found the body.

She called out, hoping the man was only unconscious; she then leaned down and felt him, to make sure that he still drew breath. Fingers at his wet throat revealed no heartbeat; a hand at his chest confirmed that…

Dee shuddered.

The man was quite dead.

What if it is Reaper? The thought sent a wave of panic through her; she moved her hands quickly over the dead man's face, praying that she not feel a familiar jaw and nose. If Reaper had drowned…she….she…she did not know what she would do? The thought of her knight dying in such a way…

Fingers revealed a large nose and a long beard, the jaw line was also unknown to her. She sighed with relief that it was not Reaper, but immediately felt bad as well. The dead man may not have been the paladin, but that did not mean that he did not have loved ones and friends who would miss him. She had no right to be grateful that this man was dead and Reaper was not…

She said words over the body, praying that he find his way to the Maker's side, that Andraste take the poor doomed sailor into her arms. It made her feel a little better, but that did not change the fact that she had no idea what had become of her knight.

 _Who is to say that Reaper is even still alive_ , a despairing voice echoed through her head, _He could be laying further down the beach. He could be at the bottom of the sea now for all you know._

A stifled sob escaped her lips, panic and despair rose to overwhelm her.

What was she going to do _now_? She had no idea where she was. Ferelden most likely, the captain had assured Reaper that they were not far from their destination. She had never heard of any islands off the coast of the Ferelden, so the likelihood she was stranded on one seemed remote. If this was the mainland, then the city of Highever was likely not far away, but even if it was, how was she to find her way there alone, and even if she did how would she…?

She stopped herself right then.

So you are alone, frightening as it may be, you are also alive, and therefore there is still hope. If you survived this, then it is likely that Reaper survived as well. He was well trained with all his wits and senses about him.

If anyone could survive such a storm, it was the paladin.

She did not want to even think about what it would mean if he was dead. The mere thought of it threatened to open a yawing chasm in her heart, her soul. That thought that they might never speak again, laugh together again…it…it felt like someone had torn out a piece of her soul.

Had they come so far…she and him? This wasn't grieving; this was…it felt like the end of the world!

She took a shuddering breath, refusing to give into despair. Until Reaper lay dead before her, she would not believe him gone; if he was…she…she thought she would know. She would sense it in her soul.

Until that time, she needed to remain strong. She…

A cold breeze knifed into her, making her shiver, she realized then just how cold she was. Her robes were soaked through, and if she was not careful she might catch her death on this beach

Her survival instincts took over, she made her way back to where the ship's mast was, finding the thick sail cloth. She quickly stripped off her wet robes, using the dagger she had sheathed to her wrist she cut off a large section of the sail, wrapping her body in the torn cloth, while at the same time drying her skin and hair the best she could.

She could feel the sun on her face, she was not sure if it was morning or afternoon, but at least the storm had passed. She forced herself to sit, to check her bag, and its contents; she might have need of those supplies later. The bottles of various salves and ointments had survived intact. The bandages were soaked, but if necessary she could tear up strips from the sail if she found herself in need. She also checked the hidden pocket in the bag's lining. She found that the coins she had stashed there had not been lost. She counted two gold, three silvers, and twenty coppers, not a fortune perhaps, but enough to buy her transport to the nearest city, if anyone happened to wander by.

Would there be anyone coming? She believed so. If this was mainland Ferelden, then such storms were well known to wash up the wreckage. Wreckage meant salvage, which meant salvagers.

If they would be friend or foe, she could not guarantee, but Andrastian faith was strong here in Ferelden, with luck, she would find someone possessing a bit of good Andrastian charity.

Now all she had to do was wait.

The thought did not please her, but what choice did she have? She could not simply wander away from here. She had no idea which way might lead to civilization, here at least there was a chance she might encounter someone, someone who might be able to help her, maybe even Reaper himself, she did not doubt that he would be searching if he believed her still alive.

The wind blew, rustling her hair, and again making her shiver, she pulled the sail toga she had made tighter around her. she reached out, touching her robes, it would take a while for them to dry enough that she felt comfortable wearing them, and even then they would be stiff from the sea.

She sighed, and prayed silently to Andraste and the Maker.

Let Reaper be alright, she murmured, let us be reunited so that we may continue to serve in your light. Please, oh Maker…

…Let him be alright.

IOI

Dee was not sure how long she sat there, praying and hoping for some sign of civilization. When she first thought she heard voices, she sat up from the near doze she had fallen into. She pulled her makeshift robes of sail cloth tighter around her, while at the same time making sure that she still had her staff that and the dagger strapped to her wrist, just in case.

She hoped that whoever she was hearing was friendly, but if they were not, she was ready, or rather as ready as she could be.

She finally could wait no longer, she called out to whoever was out there, and hoped for the best.

She heard the sound of several men approaching; she settled down onto the sand and waited.

"I told ya' I 'eard someone," a male voice said.

"Yeah, you have Mabari ears Jorge, lucky you."

"Lick me sack Ronnie!"

"Shut it both of ye!"

Dee shifted slightly under her makeshift robe.

So far, not so good, she thought.

She called out again.

The three men found her.

"Greetings sers," she called out.

The three chuckled amongst themselves.

"First time I've ever been called 'Ser'," she heard the one called Jorge say.

"Many blessings of our lord be upon you, gentlemen," Dee said.

The one who told the other two to 'shut up' chuckled.

"Lookee her boys," he crowed, "We have found ourselves a mermaid!"

"A pretty one too," she heard Ronnie add.

Dee heard them starting to spread out around her.

She frowned.

Not a good sign at all.

"My name is Sister Daelle," she informed them.

"So the mermaid is from the chantry," she heard Jorge snort, "Lucky us."

"Would you be so kind to tell me where I am," she asked.

"On a beach, "the group's leader said dryly.

His friends laughed.

Dee frowned.

"Something's wrong with Kourt," she heard Ronnie say, she ain't looking at us."

"What's the matter Sister Fish? You blind or something?!"

"Yes," she admitted, her hand drifting into her sleeve.

She had a bad feeling about these men, and that feeling just kept getting worse.

The three roared with laughter.

"Blind," Ronnie chortled, a blind fish, now I've seen everything!"

"Blind, and stuck in the chantry," Kourt said, "Bad luck all around for you Sister Fish."

"But lucky for us," Jorge said, "Very lucky."

Dee suppressed shudder.

She did not like the sound of that.

"I have coin," she offered, "I'll happily pay you to see me safely back to the nearest chantry."

"Oh, we'll have that coin," Ronnie said, "And bit more."

I don't think so, Dee thought grimly.

"Please," she said, "I do not want any trouble."

The three salvagers laughed.

Dee wrested her left hand on her staff, while the right grasped her dagger by the hilt.

She truly did not want any trouble, but that did not mean that she was not ready if it came.

Leliana had spent years making sure she was ready.

"I heard these chantry girls like it rough," Jorge said in a husky voice.

"Perhaps we'll just see."

"Come here little fish," she heard footsteps approaching, in her mind's eye, she could imagine the man Jorge drawing closer.

"I'll help ye."

He seized her by the wrist, yanking her painful to her feet.

Dee did not hesitate.

She drove her elbow forward.

It struck the man hard; she heard his jaw click from the impact.

She felt his grip fall away.

She did not let him stagger back.

She stepped forward and kneed him in groin; at least she thought it was in the groin.

Gurgling the man went down.

Someone behind her grabbed her hair.

"Come 'ere slut!"

Dee drove her elbow back, she did not strike Kourt hard, but he lost his grip on her hair.

She still had a grip on her staff; she twirled it overhead as Leliana showed her.

She was rewarded with a loud crunch and the sound of one of the men falling.

At that moment she was grateful for the sail cloth she was wearing, it freed up her legs better than her chantry robe would.

She dropped into a fighting stance, her attention focused entirely on what was going on around her, or so she thought.

Something heavy slammed into her from behind, one of the men she thought tackling her.

Her staff was pinned beneath her.

She tried to scream.

The man grabbed her head and slammed her face first into the sand; it went up her nose and into her mouth.

"BITCH!" she heard Ronnie spit, "You are going to be the sorriest piece of ass in Ferelden when we done with you.

Dee struggled trying to free her dagger.

She would not go quietly. She would not let these bastards just have their fun!

They may kill her, but she would damn well not make it easy on them. She would…

She heard a loud crunch behind her, something warm ran down over her head; suddenly the weight of the salvager was off.

Dee drew her dagger and came up into a sitting position, the blade at the ready.

She heard one of the men who had tried to assault her cry out. Court she thought, a cry that was cut short.

"Bassards," she heard Jorge sputter, his nose likely broken from her first strike, the sound of clashing blades, and another sudden cry, cut short, .that at the sound of something heavy falling on the sand.

She heard the shift of armor and of footsteps around her.

She held up her blade in challenge.

"Stay back!" she cried, "I'm warning you!"

"After what we just saw," a female voice said chuckling, 'I'll not need that warning."

Dee frowned.

Another group of salvagers perhaps, that did not mean that they were any better than the ones she had just met, but…

At least these were talking like they saw her more than a piece of meat.

"Don't hurt me," she said.

"We won't lass," she heard someone say, this voice sounded older, with an accent she did not recognize.

"Ye can put the blade down; no one here is going to hurt ye now."

Dee was hesitant, but she did lower her weapon.

"Are ye hurt?" she heard a voice ask behind her.

Dee tensed; she had not realized one of them was behind her.

"Stay back Kel," the older voice said, "Lass is pretty quick, and that knife is not just for show."

Dee listened closely for any sign of renewed attack.

"Those men," she asked.

"Dead," the girl's voice answered, "Papa doesn't like rapers."

Dee laughed nervously.

"I'm not too fond of them myself," she admitted dryly.

She heard someone step closer to her. She started to raise her blade again.

"Easy lass," the older man said, "Can't ye see I'm not armed?"

"No," she admitted.

"Ah," the older man said, "Blind eh?"

Dee nodded.

"My Da is unarmed," she heard the one they called Kel say, "He is reaching out his hand to help you up, miss."

Dee folder her dagger back and slid it into its sheath.

She nodded, but was ready if these people were lying.

She reached out and found a small strong hand reaching out for her, a hand that ended in a thick wrist, warm, but as hard as stone with muscle. A wrist that was too thick to belong to a human.

"Dwarves," she said, "You are dwarves?"

The old man chuckled as he helped her to her feet.

"I guess that does explain why I'm not as tall as the rest of the cloud gazers, the old man said, "Names Baelgun, Baelgun Dace of the merchant's guild, the boy behind ye, is Keldon, he is me son, and the girl is Kindi, she is me daughter."

"I'm Sister Daelle," Dee said, "Formerly of the Denerim chantry."

"Guess that explains the robes papa," she heard Kel say, that and the sound of him picking something up, probably her robes.

The dwarf snorted.

"Ye are a long way from Denerim, lass," he said.

"I was on my way to Highever," she said, "Our ship got caught in the storm."

"Lot of ships got caught last night," Baelgun admitted, "We came here looking for salvage, and found you instead."

She heard the old man chuckle.

"Chantry pays for the return of its sisters," he said, "Perhaps this will be a break of luck for both of us?"

Dee smiled.

"Perhaps," she admitted, "Are we very far from Amaranthine," she asked, "Or Highever?"

"Day's ride from Highever," she heard the boy Kel say, "You're about two hours ride west of Amaranthine."

Dee nodded.

She knew where she was.

She and Reaper knew what to do if they were ever separated on a mission, they were to seek out the nearest chantry and send word to the next closest few. If Reaper still lived he would check to see if she had left any messages.

He would be able to find her, provided she could talk the dwarves into taking her to either city.

"I have coin," she said, "I will happily pay you for your trouble if you see me safely to either city."

"How much," she heard the boy Kel say.

His father hissed, at him. Clearly this Baelgun was not as mercenary as some dwarves she had met.

"Payment would be appreciated lass," he said, "But if you want to be safe, you are probably going to have to go farther than Highever or Amaranthine."

Dee's brow furrowed.

"Why?" she asked, "What has happened?"

"Templars," Kindi said.

Dee felt a cold chill run down her back.

"Templars?"

"Aye," Baelgun said.

"A whole army of them landed three nights back, out of the Free Marches. They have set up garrisons in both Highever and Amaranthine."

"They also put your chantries under lockdown," Kindi added, "All the sisters are under house arrest."

The realization struck her like a fist.

Templars? They had seized two Ferelden cities?

Why had the crown allowed that?!

"It might be safer for you lass to forget Highever or Amaranthine, "the dwarven father advised, "Denerim would probably be better, that is where we will be heading after all.

She felt his large hand pat the back of her hand gently.

"You're welcome to join us. If you don't mind riding in the back of a wagon."

Dee considered her alternatives…

She did not think she had any.

"I need to send word to the chantry," she said, "I was traveling with another; he might have made it to Highever or Amaranthine. He will be looking for me. If he…

She paused.

She could not bring herself to say the words…

"If he survived."

"I'll see what I can do, lass," Baelgun said.

"We could talk to Rafe, Da," she heard the girl say, "He has contacts in both Amaranthine and Highever."

"Maybe," she heard Baelgun murmur.

"This Rafe is a friend," she asked the dwarf.

"A business associate," the father admitted, "He maybe a Rivaini swindler, but he is a fair Rivaini swindler."

Dee nodded.

Any port in a storm, she supposed.

She was unsure if Reaper was alive or dead, and now found herself in the company of a family of Dwarven salvagers, on her way to meet one of their contacts, who may or may not be able to help.

She sighed.

The path of the faithful was a twisty one indeed.

Alas she had no choice.

She would have to walk it, walk it, and find out where it led.

Hopefully back to Reaper, she thought.

Reaper and _**their**_ mission.

That is what mattered…

…All that mattered.


	20. Denerim

**Chapter 20: Denerim**

Two weeks after she had crawled out of the sea, Sister Daelle once again found herself in the Denerim Chantry. Once again clad in clean robes of the faith, she sat in a pew after hours waiting for the arrival of one of her mentors agents.

The smells and sounds, the incense the creaking of bench on which she sat took her back almost a decade, she remembered waking up here after the darkspawn siege had ended, waking up to a world of darkness and the knowledge that the life she had known for the first fourteen years of her life was gone.

Yet, I found hope here as well, she reminded herself, it was here the Sister Leliana had found her, found her and gave her a new direction, a new purpose in life, and a calling.

If Reaper was gone however, that calling may have ended in failure.

She tried not to think about that. She had sent word to both Sister Leliana and the Divine; hopefully their agents could turn up more than Dee had managed on her own.

Perhaps one of their contacts would confirm what she hoped.

Reaper was still alive.

She could feel it.

As she waited she listened to the sounds of night here in the Denerim chantry, the crackling of the eternal flame, and the noise of her fellow sisters as they settled in for the eve, seeking rest in their beds.

Alas, Dee would find no rest here, the Templars abandonment of so many smaller chantries in Thedas has forced many sisters and mothers to flee to the cities for protection. More and more daughters of the faith arrived daily, some of them with tales of being preyed upon by thugs now that the Templars no longer defended the houses of the Maker.

There were far too many sisters now, and too few beds. Mother Celeste had offered hers to her old friend Dee, but the blind sister had refused. She would not turn out anyone in need, especially when she had found good friends willing to take her in.

The Dace family proved to be such good friends.

IOI

Mother Celeste, an old friend of Dee's, had paid Baelgun Dace for seeing her safely back to Denerim. Technically she had been his hostage then, but if that was the case, she had no complaints about her treatment. Both the elder Dace and his children had been nothing but respectful during their journey back to the capital. The family was in fact from Denerim, and had been more than willing to see her to a place that was on their way back home. Dee had also proven her worth by tending to a blade wound that young Keldon Dace had received during the fight to protect her from those rapers. His father had been impressed with her skill, and even had offered her his tent to sleep in during the journey back. She had accepted his generous offer, but only after she was sure that she was not imposing.

"I've seen young men die from minor wounds in the Deep Roads, lass," he told her, "Up here it is not so common, but infection can still kill, so I thank you for your aid."

"It is my pleasure," she had said with a curtsey, and it was the least she could do after having been rescued by these good people.

She learned that Baelgun Dace had actually been born in Orzammar. He had been of the warrior caste then and had won several honors during his time in the Deep Roads. Though he would not say what had made him come to surface, he would not deny that that journey had been a blessing in disguise, upon leaving his homeland he took up a job protecting a surface dwarf's merchant caravan, and had caught the eye of the merchant's daughter.

The two of them had ended up getting married three months later.

Of the dwarf's two children, she found she had more in common with the girl Kindi than she would have realized. The younger of the two, Kindi's mother had spent the last few years preparing her daughter to take the reins of their business enterprise one day. Dee knew what that was like, being the daughter of a merchant herself. Her mother had also wanted to be sure that Dee would be able to do the job when the time came, that and likely make a proper match, preferably one with a wealthy family, with a willing son to be a husband.

That world had been lost to Dee when her mother had died in Denerim. Though she had made the best of her life since, Dee still wondered what would have happened if mother had survived the battle. Even blinded Dee likely would have still been expected to fulfil her duties to her family. Duty that now fell on the shoulders of young Kindi Dace.

While her brother studied the ax and the sword with her father, Kindi studied trade reports and sums. Both were literate in both the dwarven language and the common tongue, and could read or write in both.

The mention of the last part saddened Dee, she had been an avid reader before the siege, and the loss of her sight had denied her that simple pleasure, one of several lost with her eyes.

She had mentioned as much to Kindi, but the girl had responded not with sympathy but with hope.

"Books might not be lost to you forever," the girl said, "I've heard tales of a noble in House Volney, he was blinded during a deep roads expedition and has since requested a team of scholars come up with a way for him to read using his fingers. Perhaps it will catch on up here in the surface."

Dee thought about that.

She already used a system of markings for her healing supplies, grooves cut into stoppers so that she could deduce the contents.

Would a written language in a similar fashion be so hard to grasp, she did not think so.

She smiled slightly.

Perhaps one day, books would be open to her again.

The Dace family provided an excellent distraction for her as she waited to hear back from either Leliana or her contacts. Every day she prayed for news of Reaper's survival, perhaps to have the paladin stride purposely into the Denerim chantry and reclaim her back into his service. In meantime she gathered up every scrap of information she could about the Templars that had seized both Highever and Amaranthine. Many travelers past through the chantry gates, and most were more than willing to share a tale or two in exchange for a sister's blessing.

She learned that the Templars who now occupied the coast were under the command of a Knight Commander named Martel. The name set off a warning bell, though Dee could not place why. Officially, according to the Templars that had addressed the concerned citizens of both cities, they had simply arrived to make sure the cities remained safe in these troubled times, reminding all who would listen that the mages that had escaped from Kinloch Hold could strike at any moment, and that only the order could protect them from this rising threat. The nobles of both cities had agreed to shelter the Templars, and declared them all honored guests.

The last part almost made Dee laugh.

The difference between guest and occupier was a knife's edge. At the first hint of trouble, the Templars had more than enough men to make both cities theirs with little or no trouble. Complaints had no doubt been sent to the palace in Denerim, but for the moment Ferelden's ruler did nothing to provoke the rogue Templars further.

It remains to be seen what the order does when the mages do finally make a move Dee realized.

Then they would see what the Templars' motivations truly were.

Meanwhile, Templar foraging parties had been spotted only a few short miles outside of Denerim, and as far south as the remnant of old Lothering. These Templar parties avoided meeting the king's soldiers, but were rumored to not be above stopping a merchant's wagon, especially if they suspected it might have lyrium or gold on board. Most of these wagons continued on their way unmolested, but that did not mean that the Templars did not extract a…toll for allowing the merchants to continue on their journey.

Again the crown of Ferelden remained silent, though that came as no surprise to anyone. The bulk of the kingdom's army was either here in Denerim, or watching the Orlesian border in case the Empire's civil war attempted to spill over into their old Ferelden holdings.

Given the situation, it was not hard to understand why the Templar order had free reign of Ferelden, at least for now.

As to the order itself, it remained a mystery to those in the chantry. It was clearly targeting the mages, but others than that; very little news came out of Highever and Amaranthine. A situation that was very frustrating to Dee.

Once again, Baelgun Dace offered her a possible solution, provided that Leliana's people turned up nothing.

"My friend Rafe will return soon," he assured her, "He is a man of means with many contacts, he might be able to help you find out what you wish."

"Does he do business with the Templars?"

"Some," Baelgun said, "He is in the import/export business, mostly import."

Dee chuckled.

"You mean he is a smuggler?"

"Some might call him that, Aye."

Dee nodded.

Such a man might know something that the chantry's agents did not.

"Can he be trusted?"

"Mostly," the old dwarf agreed, "Has no great love for either the Templars or the mages. You have gold; he will be willing to hear you out at least."

Dee considered that.

It was something at least, another person who might be able to find out more on Reaper, if he was alive or dead.

Let him be alive, she thought, please Maker, let him still be alive.

The dwarf put in a word with one of the Rivaini's associates, they would send word when he returned to Denerim.

In the meantime all she could do was what she was already doing.

She could wait.

IOI

Dees sighed.

She had been sitting in the chantry for two hours now, waiting to hear back from one of Leliana's agents.

If he did not turn up soon, she would have to conclude that something had happened, or perhaps whatever lead he had discovered had dried up.

All she knew is that she could not wait here all night. Keldon Dace was waiting outside for her, and if she did not return soon, he would likely leave her to spend her night in the chantry. She…

She heard the door to the chantry creak open.

She turned towards the sound.

"Yes?" she said.

"Sister Daelle," she heard a man's voice say, "I'm called Ferrier, the Nightingale sends her regards."

Dee nodded.

It was about bloody time.

"Has our bird taken to her nest?" she inquired.

"To the branches only Sister," the agent replied, "She is always vigilant, and always on watch."

Dee nodded.

That was indeed the code phrase agreed upon by their mutual benefactor. Dee may not have been an agent herself, but Reaper was…

And she knew all the necessary phrases.

"Speak," she said, "I trust you have something to tell me."

"Indeed I do, Sister," he said, "Pleasing knowledge, but perhaps a bit confusing as well."

Dee's brow furrowed.

"What have you heard?"

The man sighed.

"Agent Reaper is alive," he said, "I saw him myself two days ago."

Dee's heart leapt, it was all she could do to contain herself to keep from leaping up and kissing the agent on both cheeks.

He was alive.

Reaper _**was**_ alive!

She barely held back a laugh of joy, though a single tear did roll down her cheek.

Bless you Maker, she thought, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her heart.

Bless you Andraste!

Thank you!

"You…you are sure of this?"

"I saw him myself," the agent repeated.

"Did you get a chance to speak with him?"

"No," Ferrier said, "The situation was…complicated."

Some of the joy faded from Dee's face.

"Complicated how?"

The agent sighed.

"I did see Agent Reaper," he said again, "But at the time, he was riding with several Templars."

"Templars," Dee said, barely stifling a gasp, the memory of the failed assassination attempt in Val Royeaux still fresh in her mind.

"Was he a prisoner?"

"It did not seem so sister, he was riding beside them both armed and armored. He seemed more a guest than a prisoner."

Dee's head spun, trying to make sense of all this.

She thought back to their summons to Val Royeaux by Lord Seeker Lambert, back before everything else fell apart.

"Do you know where Reaper is now?"

"No," Ferrier admitted, 'The Templars are very cautious of who they let into their camps. The Nightingale has people looking for a way in, but…"

The man sighed again.

"It does not look good sister."

Dee frowned.

This was good news of course, Reaper was alive, he was safe, for the moment, she hoped…

…But he was with the Templars, more a guest than a prisoner?

She…she did not know what to make of that!

"The Nightingale thought you would want to know as soon as possible," Ferrier said, "Our people will try to get word to Agent Reaper as soon as they can."

"That is all we can do," she said morosely, "Thank you for passing this on to me, it is a great relief."

She reached out to him, and felt him take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Sister," he said before retreating out the door, no doubt already on another mission for Sister Leliana.

Dee sighed.

It seemed like she would have to take Serah Dace up on his offer to meet with his smuggler friend. Perhaps this Rafe would know more about what was going on with the Templars, and might even have more news for her about Reaper.

She pursed her lips.

She could not say for certain what was going on, but she was intent on getting to the bottom of it.

Her knight was now surrounded by rogue Templars, many of whom might still wish him ill for what had happened to their corrupt brethren.

She needed to find out why, and help him get away if she could.

Otherwise, her joy at his survival might be short lived…

…very short lived indeed.

Hang on Reaper, she thought.

I'm coming.


	21. Templars

**Chapter 21: Templars**

"We are the Maker's chosen, the elect, his sword, shield, and hand of judgment! We are the future of the faith, its rightful inheritors, and now, brothers and sisters, now…we are VICTORIOUS!"

The cheers of hundreds of Templars rang out, swords and torches were raised, and the chant of "For the order" and "Martel" filled the air. The crimson banner of the order's burning sword was everywhere, fluttering proudly in the evening breeze.

Quite a show, Reaper thought to himself, to the unenlightened it might even feel genuine, that the order _**was**_ unstoppable, that its rise to its rightful place was not only inevitable, but ordained by Andraste and the Maker himself.

Things were not that certain Reaper thought to himself, and the order was far from the invincible juggernaut that it pretended to be.

It had been almost a month since the ship that had brought him to Ferelden sank during a storm. Since that time Reaper had found himself drawn back into the order that had first formed him years ago. He might not have had any memory of that time, but the skills that he had learned there remained.

Had he been on his own, he would have scoured the coast looking for Dee, for evidence that his partner had survived. Alas the Templars had discovered him in Amaranthine, and though he had went with them willingly, had he tried to resist he likely would not have survived, not given his history of delivering justice to the more corrupt members of the order.

He tried not to think about Dee. He tried not to let his fear turn into despair. After all, when they had abandoned ship the launches had been scattered all along the coast, some ending up in Amaranthine and off the Highever coast.

She could be anywhere, he realized. Though he feared her dead, the part of him that had admired her strength refused to believe it. He would have done as Sister Leliana had instructed and sent word to all nearby chantries, to see if she had left any messages, but the Templars had not allowed him to do that.

He had been watched too closely, watched and guarded even when on missions, and had been so since Ser Amelia had discovered him in that tavern in Amaranthine.

Perhaps that was for the best, he thought, though he could feel the hole her loss left in his soul, though he had screamed his throat raw calling her name during the storm, he recognized the danger Dee would be in if the Templars found her. They had put the chantries in Highever and Amaranthine under lock down.

What would they have done if they had found Dee before him? Would they have taken her hostage, used her to make sure that he obeyed their orders? Would they not use her if they thought it would give them power over him?

 _No,_ perhaps it was better for her, _safer_ , if they thought she was dead.

Since that time, he had participated in four armed forays for the order. Three of those had been mere reconnaissance missions to determine the location of the rebel mages, and the fourth to deal with a coven of Maleficarum that had threatened the lives of a small village to the south.

It was during that last mission that he had finally earned a bit of trust. Before that the Templars had looked upon him with both fear and suspicion. He had had assigned watchers around him until they were sure that he was not a spy.

Killing those blood mages had done much to earn him credit with the Templar officers, Knight Commander Martel first among them. Through the use of his new abilities, Reaper had saved the lives of many Templars who would have normally perished in a pitched battle against the blood mages and the abominations that had come when two of those mages had given into despair and realized they had no chance of escape.

Now, he was heralded as a hero by most of the young recruits, some of the officers still looked upon him with suspicion, but that was to be expected.

They likely saw him as a threat to the power they had gained since the split with the chantry. The common soldiers only saw a young man that served the faith first, and no doubt saw themselves in a similar light...

…Even If he had only proved that by killing mages, blood mages perhaps, but still mages.

Reaper felt no shame in the role he had played during that battle. He was a servant of the faith after all; it was his duty to protect people from abomination and Maleficarum. The coven they destroyed had come from the Ferelden Circle, but they had broken away from their fellows, the freedom of not being confined anymore had gone to their heads. They turned to the forbidden to protect themselves, attacking an innocent village, seeking to use the villagers' blood to power some massive spell. Martel had sent Reaper and his men to deal with it; they had arrived in time and stopped the mages. They had all died in battle, but that had been their choice, they had turned to the forbidden, and had paid for that choice with their lives.

It was the first _justifiable_ thing Reaper had done since Amelia had recruited him in Amaranthine almost three weeks ago.

It was what the order **should** have been doing.

As he continued to listen to the Knight-Commander's long-winded speech, his third such in as many weeks, Reaper did his best to hide his emotions, to keep his face a bland and unreadable mask. Fierce and almost fanatically dedicated to this war, Martel was a man who, for the moment was on the rise. Though he had served in the order for almost thirty years and had gone gray in the service, he fought like a man half his age, and was, the paladin was forced to admit, as skilled with words as he was with his blade, his fiery speeches and cold avian features appealing to the more aggressive of Templars.

But, according to Ser Amelia, he was only one of many. More than a few of the Knight Commanders and officers had aspirations to rise beyond their current status in the order, to rise to the height of power. Martel was one of them, and had bullied several others into following him.

That was the truth of the order now, power, not the faith that it proclaimed.

Martel's posturing and propaganda disgusted Reaper, especially when he began to talk about the chantry and Divine Justinia. Calling it a paper lion being held up weak little girls led by an idealistic and naïve fool, according to the Knight Commander it was the priests that started this war by not accepting that it was the Templars and the Templars alone that had the Maker's will in their hearts. That the circle's corruption had grown so great in the last decade that a purge of the mages was the only true way to restore true peace and justice. That it was the order, not the chantry, who had had the courage to see things as they truly were, and now needed to step up and claim the recognition and independence necessary to see the Andrastian faith protected for all time.

 _A grand goal_ , the Knight-Commander assured them, _a goal that would finally come to pass once the circles had been brought low and defeated._

 _Right,_ reaper thought sarcastically.

He did not doubt the existence of corruption within the Circles. The blood mages they had slain were proof enough that that corruption did exist. However, that did not mean that the Templars were all virtuous heroes, oh no.

He had seen ample proof in the last few days that showed that **that** wasn't true. Foraging raids on merchants and small settlements, the seizing of chantry assets by sword point, but the clearest example of that corruption was the Knight-Commander himself, Martel had come from a storied family among the Templars...

…A family that was known for its treason.

Almost twenty years earlier, there had been another Knight-Commander Martel; he had led the Templars of the White Spire during "The Day of the Dragons." **That** Knight Commander Martel had conspired with the Grand Cleric of Orlais, and a blood mage named Frenic to murder Divine Beatrix during the event's of the Ten Year Gathering of the Faith, a conspiracy that had been foiled by loyal mages and Cassandra Pentaghast herself. Grand Cleric Callista had died that day, murdered by the blood mage Frenic, while her ally, and rumored lover, Knight-Commander Martel had died in single combat with a sixteen year old Seeker Cassandra. Who defeated not only Martel, but Frenic, and the dragons that the blood mage had summoned to try and kill the Divine.

The stories since that day had tried to shift the blame for _The Day of the Dragon_ on to Frenic alone, claiming that he had used his powers to control Callista and used _her_ to bring the Knight Commander into his service. The current Commander Martel, that man's nephew, claimed that his uncle had been led astray by the Grand Cleric, and that it was _she_ and the blood mage working together that were truly to blame for his predecessor's fall. In the current political climate, it was more accepted to blame a priest for the order's troubles. Martel had likely even won some sympathy for what his poor uncle had endured.

Reaper was not the sympathetic type, though he did not believe that an entire family should be blamed for the actions of one of its members.

Regardless, the man's name alone should have been enough to keep him out of a place of command among the Templars. Yet, he had managed to rise in spite of it. He had left the empire, and served for a time in the Free Marches and Nevarra, rising in rank through skill and determination.

Reaper respected that, a man should be judged by his own merits not his family. Had he stayed loyal to the chantry, Reaper would have thought nothing more of it, unfortunately Martel had not; he had led his warriors out of the Free Marches, and launched his forced against the mages of Ferelden.

Now he had seized control of both Highever and Amaranthine. The nobles of those cities could call the Templars guests if they liked, but it did not change that the Templars had arrived without invitation and now had garrisons holding the city.

 _If_ _ **that**_ _wasn't an act of conquest, Reaper did not know what one was._

As for the order as a whole, the paladin could not say if they approved of Martel's actions or not. The Seekers of Truth were supposed to be the new officers and leaders of the order, yet none had accompanied Martel on this journey. It was said that Lord Seeker Lucius Korrin now led them, but from what Reaper had heard around the camp, the Lord Seeker was not the war leader that the order should have had. He was a decent man, respected, but not one to stand up and take charge, one who preferred to let his advisors make the decisions, a perfect figure head for the overly ambitious, and now those ambitious men and women were fighting with each other behind the scenes, hungry to secure the order for themselves.

For _**that**_ was the true legacy of the late Lambert Van Reeves, an order divided, its leaders killing each other in alleys and dark rooms. Martel was one of many who had stepped up and tried to fill the late Lord Seeker's shoes.

So far, he had been unsuccessful.

Reaper slipped away from the crowd, he had heard enough of the Knight-Commander patting himself on the back. The paladin hoped that he might still get a chance to get a missive off to one of the local chantries, a letter for Dee, telling her he was alive.

 _Provided she was alive of course,_ that cynical part of his mind reminded him.

 _If she was still alive._

Though he worried about Dee, he was forced to ignore the worry and the pain, to continue to soldier on here. Though he had not been commanded to infiltrate the Templar order, he saw the value for the chantry in doing so. Both the Divine and Sister Leliana would find much of what he had learned here useful. They may even find some way to _exploit_ what he had learned, to bring at least some Templars back into chantry service.

He felt no shame in that either. Though any Templar here would call him a turn cloak for what he was doing, he only needed to remember that it was the Templars who had turned their cloaks first, betraying their oath to serve the chantry and the Divine, and that what he was doing would hopefully aid the chantry in bringing the order back under control.

He made his way through the camp, past cook fires and men sitting before tents cleaning armor and servicing weapons. The bulk of the Templars that Martel had brought into his service were very young, either new recruits or knights that had only just finished their vigils when the order had broken away. These soldiers were green, but they did have the advantage of possessing a sense of certainty, the devotion of the young. The certainty of righteousness that only the young and innocent possess.

 _We are right and the mages and everyone else is wrong._

They were young and looking for something to believe in, and were being led by officers that had mostly come from the merchants and the nobility. Third or fourth born sons and daughters who had thought the chantry a better option than waiting to see if they might become their parents' heirs.

They were practically buzzing now, riding high on their victory over the blood mages. Of course, none seemed to recognize that that fight had been with a bunch of disorganized outlaws, that the true Circle mages were **still** out there, unified by their Senior Enchanters into a single powerful force.

Those mages would, no doubt, have much sharper teeth than their criminal brethren.

"Lord Reaper? Lord Reaper?"

He sighed, and put on a gentle smile.

He turned to see Ser Amelia approaching, and forced himself to appear welcoming.

She had after all been his way into the Templars.

It was best that he appear that he was on her side.

"Ser Amelia," he said bowing slightly.

"What do you wish if me?"

IOI

Ser Amelia DeCarrac had been the Templar that discovered him in Amaranthine. It was she that brought him back for Knight-Commander Martel. She had also been the same "Sister" Amelia that had spoken with Dee shortly before they had left to deal with the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest, a fact that he had confronted her on.

She had merely smiled.

"Didn't we all begin as brothers and sisters of the chantry? Before we took up our blades to defend the Maker's kingdom?"

The paladin had acknowledged that, though he still looked at the matter as a lie on the Templar woman's part.

She was smart this one, he thought, and cunning too.

 _He recognized the need to watch his step around her._

Ser Amelia had grown up in the chantry. Like most of the officers he had met, she had been a child of an Orlesian knight, the fourth born down, so unlikely to ever be the man's heir. Amelia was also likely the highest ranked woman serving with Knight Commander Martel. Whether that was because of her skill, connections or charm, Reaper was not sure, and make no mistake; she could be charming, with her curly black hair, dark almond shaped eyes, and tanned pretty face.

 _Was that why Martel had tasked her with finding him?_ She had admitted as much. It seemed that his fears about the Templars serving the Divine were right, some of them were only still serving in the Grand Cathedral to gather intelligence for the order.

She had asked about Dee, and offered her sympathies when he told her she had been lost in the storm. It sounded genuine enough; perhaps the woman mourned the fact that they had lost something that could have been used to leverage him.

It seemed the Templars still had designs on the chantry. No doubt they realized that eventually they would need to bring the mothers under their control if this…new order of theirs was to become a reality. That meant they needed strength within the Grand Cathedral, and news from inside.

News of his journey to Ferelden for example, he realized, had it not been for the storm Reaper and Dee might have fallen neatly into Knight-Commander Martel's hands.

Ser Amelia admitted to searching first in Highever, and then in Amaranthine where she had found him... She had found paladin in one of the local taverns there, waiting for an opportunity to slip into the chantry and hopefully get a message to one of the Nightingale's agents, so that Dee, if she survive would know that he was alive.

From then on, Amelia had been among the shadows watching him, and by far the most tenacious.

She had apparently been one of Lord Seeker Lambert's most loyal supporters; her seeking out of Dee that day in the Grand Cathedral had been under his orders. The Lord Seeker had been intrigued by the paladin, and sought more information from the only one who likely knew him as well as the Divine or Sister Nightingale.

"It must have been a shock when the Lord Seeker died," Reaper said to her that night in the tavern, "I'm sure he had so many grand plans."

If the woman was thrown off by his statement she did not show it, in fact she had chuckled.

"It was a shock," she confessed, "His Lordship should not have stayed in the capital after the mages had fled, he should have taken to the field immediately, instead; he stayed in the capital to consolidate our power, where either the Divine or the mages could get to him."

Her admission surprised him.

"You think the Divine had something to do with Lord Seeker Lambert's death?"

"Her or the mages," the Templar had said grimly, "Who else profited from my lord's death?"

 _Try your own people,_ Reaper thought darkly, but held his tongue.

"Ser Reaper," she said sincerely, "I will not lie to you, the order is in dire straits, we find ourselves in a world we never expected, cut off from the chantry and struggling to find our way on our own for the first time."

Her smile returned.

"We need strong men to guide us now, determined men, loyal to the faith. Our enemies will no doubt seek to undermine our position with lies. While the mages turn to darker pursuits without our watchful eye and guidance. The Knight Commander has already received reports of blood mages kidnapping people south of here. He intends to deal with this matter swiftly."

She put her hand on his.

"We could use your help."

That had been the start of it. That appeal to his faith and his duty to the people of Thedas, and it had worked to a point.

He had rode off with her, agreeing to aid her, to see that the order was not as corrupt as the Divine feared.

If the woman meant to seduce him to the Templar cause this was her way in.

Of course, it was also **his** way into the order, to find out what was truly going on, and find a way to exploit it.

They were **using** each other.

It was only a matter of time now to see who would get to where they wanted to be first.

IOI

"The Lord Seeker has called the war council," Amelia informed him, "He wishes you to join us."

Reaper nodded and fell in step beside her. Curious what Martel would have his Templars do next.

Several of their soldiers looked up as they passed, they whispered nervously about the man in black armor. Stories of what had happened with the blood mages and with Ser Reginald back in Val Royeaux had reached the common soldiers' ears. They now spoke of the one who was not one of them, but still had the abilities of a Templar, powerful abilities...

…The lord in black

Ser Amelia smirked.

"They are in _awe_ of you," she murmured.

"No they are **afraid** of me," he answered grimly.

That only made her smirk widen.

"Fear and awe, they are an amazing combination, Lord Reaper. They make a man more than just a man, not just in the eyes of their enemies, but in their allies as well."

The Lady Templar's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Such a man is needed in this time, Lord Lambert was such a man; Andraste keep his soul. The order has been lessened by his loss. Now we seek someone new, a great unifier, he could make things better for the order; keep us all on the right track, provided he has the aid of the right allies and the support of the men."

Reaper did his best to keep his face bland, but could not entirely hide his surprise.

What was this now?

Amelia would not have risen to where she was without the trust of the Knight-Commander. So what could he say about what she just said. Was this a test? Was it some kind of trap set by Martel to rid himself of the paladin? Was the statement genuine? Was Ser Amelia attempting to play Reaper against Martel?

Too many questions, he thought.

Dangerous questions.

"You should be careful who you say such things to," he warned her, "Someone might get the _wrong_ idea."

She laughed again.

"Or the **right** one," she said, "We are in a war, Ser Reaper; we need the best leaders we can find."

He shrugged.

 _A diplomatic answer,_ he thought, _if **not** a reassuring one._

Apparently, Ser Amelia liked to live dangerously.

 _He would need to be extra careful,_ _ **especially**_ _around her._

"Come," she said, still looking more like a mischievous young girl than a knight of the Templar order.

"The Knight Commander is waiting."


	22. The Game

**Chapter 23: The Game**

Hope.

It was not the motivation that most would think of when they saw Reaper for the first time. To most...he appeared as simply dedicated warrior of the Faith. To many observers, he might seem cold or zealous, utterly dedicated to the rules and vows that he had taken when he had first joined the chantry and intent on holding up others to the same high standards that he set for himself.

Though true, he **was** dedicated, but that was not his main motivation, he believed in the Maker, and the chantry, but what truly drove him, the purpose that truly motivated his actions on every mission he had taken so far…was hope.

He had confessed that to Dee one night after one of their missions had ended in a most brutal fashion. She had not been pleased with how everything had happened, and let the paladin know as much. He had surprised her that night by not only agreeing with her, but vowing to try and do better. To find a way to handle matters that did not have to end with death and violence.

The thought brought the merest of smiles to his face.

That was the night that they had truly become partners not just simple travelling companions assigned to carry out a mission. After that, she had seemed more relaxed around him, more willing to speak openly, and often, on all the missions after that, she did her best to help guide him, to help him fulfil the promise that the hopeful future he sought might one day come to be a reality.

It wasn't just a dream, he _knew_ it, what was the chantry doing if it was not inspiring hope to the masses? Weren't Templars defenders of that hope?

It was an ideal, and it drove him forward, even now surrounded by people who either considered him a possible enemy or at the least, did not trust him

We can be better, he thought, we can live up to the trust the people have in the faith, live up to it, and surpass their expectations.

Which, of course, might explain why he had been so harsh with those that did not meet those standards, the men he had seen executed during his missions for the Divine had all been symptoms of the problem he had been trying to correct.

 _Corruption was a disease, and_ _ **he**_ _…was the cure._

Not that he would admit such feelings here, oh no.

Not surrounded by those that seemed to thrive on the corruption that infected the order.

He said little during the war council, not that he had much to add, several of Martel's… _advisors_ were minor legends in the Templar Order. Most of the men here had made their names either as mage hunters, or ruthless enforcers for the Templars in their various cities. Besides him, the lowest ranked person here was Ser Amelia, who held no official officer's title, but had seemed to have become Knight-Commander Martel's right hand, she stood at his right.

 _So many Templars here,_ he thought, _the mages should not have stood a chance, and likely would not have, had the order not been so intent on trying to figure out who was now in charge._

Reaper shook his head.

Such a force should have given Commander Martel great power, yet, for the moment, all the men on this council seemed to do, was bicker with each other, all having a different idea of what should be their next move.

"The Ferelden Circle has been allowed too much, for far too long," Ser Geoffrey, a knight of Starkhaven with a burned face complained. "The rewards they won during the Blight have made them both arrogant and uncontrollable."

Several of the council nodded in agreement, murmuring with approval. Not really caring that if it was not for the actions of those mages, and their allies, the world would likely still be under Blight a decade later.

"They must be struck down before they can become a beacon for this mage rebellion!"

"The Maker wills it!" Ser Ryam shouted.

"The Maker wills it!" many of the knights cried out in unison.

The display made the paladin roll his eyes.

 _Like Ser Ryam was the type to have a conversation with the Maker._

The young dark haired Templar had joined their ranks in Amaranthine. Before that he had been a lieutenant in the chantry there. He was probably the _least_ experienced of the men and women in this tent and likely one of the least devote, but Martel considered him, a _special_ case. The man had been the son of a merchant before joining the order, a merchant who had worked closely with the dwarves, and the Carta.

Ryam had offered Martel those contacts, giving him access to more lyrium.

That had been enough to buy the knight his place here.

More corruption, Reaper thought.

And yet _**more**_ proof that the changes the Divine sought were necessary.

Had he encountered Ser Ryam before this, the man might have hanged for his dealings with the smugglers, now he had a place at the officers' table, and was looked on with reverence from at least a few members of this council.

It was **not** something that the paladin found easy to swallow.

Was lyrium **all** that mattered now? Was the desire to punish the mages for seeking to find their place in this world all that mattered?

Sometimes, he hated to admit, it seemed to be so.

Despite this, he still clung to the idea that order was not beyond redemption. There were a lot of good people fighting with Martel now, people who had joined these Templars to protect their home and the faith. These recruits were not simply interested in power. They were people that just needed a new direction, a direction that could only come from just and honest leadership.

It was just a matter of finding the right man or woman.

"Knight-Commander," Ser Geoffrey said, "Where are the rest of our Ferelden brothers and sisters? Surely you have sent word to Knight Commander Greagoir of Kinloch Hold?"

"I have sent word," Martel acknowledged.

"And?" the burned Templar inquired.

The Commander sighed.

"Commander Greagoir will **not** join us. He has received orders from Lord Seeker Lucius to hold the resources in Kinloch Hold, and to see that the lyrium supplies coming from Orzammar are not interrupted."

Ser Ryam's eyes narrowed.

"Why have we not seized these supplies for ourselves? We are fighting a war after all? Should we not have the supplies we need to win it?"

Again murmurs of agreement came from the rest of the council.

"We should send word to the Lord Seeker," Ser Geoffrey said, "Offer our services in this matter, explain to him our need."

The idea made the Templar from Amaranthine chuckle.

"You would waste time conferring with the Lord Seeker?" Ryam asked, "We have almost three thousand men under our command. We should take what we need. The will of the faith should not be denied."

Again more murmurs of agreement.

Geoffrey glared at the younger man.

"Have you forgotten the chain of command, Ser?" he asked.

"Not at all, I just think that the Lord Seeker would prefer hearing of victory to us simply sitting around doing nothing. Once we have the lyrium supply under our control, we will have no trouble cowing our Ferelden brothers into joining us."

Ser Geoffrey sneered at that.

"You would seek to _leash_ our own kind? How is that any better than the Divine and the Mothers? I thought we were done with that. Are we not all equals here, warriors of Andraste?"

"Some are more equal than others," Ryam replied, "Those who command must…"

"ENOUGH!" Knight-Commander Martel shouted, pounding his fist on the war table.

All the other Templars fell silent as the leader glared at them all.

Reaper watched everyone's reactions closely.

It was clearer than ever that the Templars were not of one mind or one vision.

That might be useful later.

Martel glared at them all in turn, Ser Ryam attempted a stare down, but cowed under the Knight-Commander's gaze."

"I command here," he reminded them all, "Let none of you forget that."

He looked over his council again, not continuing until he was sure that they understood his position.

Only when that was done, did Martel choose to continue.

"We will not touch Orzammar, not yet at least," he informed them. "Ser Greagoir will keep our supply line to Orzammar open; that is enough for now. We will **not** attempt to usurp the Lord Seeker. We will **not** fight amongst ourselves while an army of apostates has free reign here in Ferelden. Our mission is to crush the mage rebellion before it can grow and gather more allies."

The Knight Commander sighed and shook his head as he studied the battle map.

"As Ser Greagoir holds open our trade with Orzammar we must hold open the ports here in northern Ferelden. The civil war in Orlais continues to grow worse, blocking any land routes from the east. Our new garrisons within Highever and Amaranthine must remain safe, they guarantee that the order can send troops, weapons or lyrium, where needed when needed, whether it be to Orlais, the Free Marches, or here."

The commander smiled coldly.

"We must do everything in our power to keep those ports open to us, and denied to the mage rebellion."

Again the other officers nodded in the affirmative.

Martel grinned.

It seemed to Reaper that he had reestablished his hold over them…

…for now.

"We cannot afford any action that might endanger that," he continued, "Ferelden's king has long been sympathetic to the mages' plight, despite his history with the order. We cannot give him any reason to see the independent Templars as enemies. So we must keep the Ferelden nobles happy, provide them what they need so they leave us free to carry out the Maker's work."

"So we continue to pay them tribute?" Ser Ryam asked, "The gold we have taken from merchants along the roads could be better spent elsewhere."

"Keeping the nobles on our side is our _first_ priority," Martel repeated, "But that does not mean we have only gold to offer."

He gestured to the map again.

"The people of Thedas trust the Templars to protect them, as we always have. That trust will keep the other kingdoms in line. Ferelden is a different animal however, despite the faith of the people here; many view the mages as allies. They helped during the Blight and won much goodwill. Which is why I chose to come here, which is why we are needed, we must save Ferelden from itself. I will not see Ferelden turned into the mage kingdom in the south. I will not let the naivety of its king hand this great country to apostates."

Even Ser Ryam nodded at that.

"We have Highever and Amaranthine, but holding these new possessions limits our strength to strike at the mages. Our brothers hold Kinloch Hold, which should do much to keep the area around Lake Calenhad free of our enemy for now."

He pointed on an area west of their position on the map.

"The mages currently have no stronghold. They scattered after their flight from the Circle. We have won some skirmishes, but I suspect the bulk of the former Circle's strength is looking for a place to call their own. It is up to us to show the nobles that that will not be tolerated, or at the very least deny the mages a chance to plead their case to would-be allies."

He thumped the map hard with a single finger.

"We will begin in West Hill. The area was hit especially hard during the Blight. Arl Wulfe has turned to mages many times in the last few years to try and restore his lands."

 _And help his people,_ Reaper thought to himself.

"The Arl has developed a soft spot for the mages, or so my agents have led me to believe. We cannot allow those feelings to turn into opposition against us. The chantry foolishly offered the services of the loyalist fraternity to West Hill in the last decade. Those mages have no doubt made friends among the people there, friends who might be tempted to shelter their old allies, in fact my agents suggest that this is indeed so."

Ser Ryam jumped to his feet.

"So we hit these traitors **hard** ," he exclaimed, "Make sure that no one else behaves so foolishly."

"That is one way to do it," Martel agreed, "Personally; I prefer a more subtle approach."

Reaper listened as the Knight-Commander explained what had happened in West Hill recently. A small group of loyalist fraternity mages had fled to the fortress of West Hill, their two leaders offering magical skill in exchange for protection and succor. They claimed neutrality in the conflict, choosing to remain loyal to the chantry.

To the Templars, that simply would not do.

Martel recognized that the Templars could not strike militarily at these mages. Arl Wulfe was not the type to stand aside and let the Templars do their duty. He would no doubt try to protect those who asked for his protection. That and he had many friends among the royal court, Teyrn Cousland and the king among them. If the Arl felt the Templars were threatening his holdings, he could call in not just his own banners but the king and the Teyrn of Highever as well. The Templars would likely win that conflict, but not before taking heavy losses, and they would certainly lose Highever and Amaranthine.

Martel did not want to risk that.

"Why attack at all?" Ser Chadwick, a dark skinned warrior from the Cumberland chantry asked, "If these mages are neutral they are no threat to us."

"Not true," the Knight-Commander said, "Who is to say that the mages in West Hill will _remain_ neutral? What if they decided to strike after we have exhausted ourselves fighting their fellows? Worse…what is to stop hostile mages hiding among these…loyalists?"

The Commander almost growled.

"We cannot leave the mages any chance to rest. We must deny them any would-be base."

"So how do we do it?" Se Ryam asked.

"We have already begun," Martel said slyly.

He confirmed that not all of the chantry sisters were as…opposed to Templar independence as others, those sisters knew their place, and had offered information and aid to the order as a whole. According to their chantry allies, the mages, though grateful to Arl Wulfe, were not entirely convinced he could protect them, and there had been some debate as if the mages should remain in West Hill or not.

The Knight-Commander assured his fellows, the only thing holding the loyalists there were their two leaders. One of them had already been removed, and the second was no longer thinking clearly, the loss of her fellow playing heavy on her mind.

"If we eliminate their remaining leader," Martel said, "And more importantly, hint that West Hill forces were involved, the mages will flee in fear, once on the road, our forces will be free to attack and eliminate them all. Thus, we are saving West Hill from making a terrible mistake."

The plan was met with cheers by the Knight-Commander's advisors.

Reaper was not one of them.

 _They would kill an innocent mage just because something might happen?_

 _They would attack a neutral party just to secure an objective?_

Reaper frowned.

Part of what Martel was saying made sense, militarily anyway, but at the same time…

The paladin's eyes narrowed.

Dee would never have accepted this. He was not sure that he did either, but at the same time…

What he knew of tactics was at war with the warnings in his heart.

If what Martel said was true, and the mages did set up a settlement in West Hill, there was nothing to stop their more militaristic brethren from using it as a base to launch hit and run attacks against the Templars. At the same time with no Templar or Circle oversight, who could say just what the mages, might start conjuring. War made people desperate, who is to say they would not turn to blood magic, especially when wounded brothers and sisters started to show up demanding help and healing?

Killing a single innocent mage might prevent that. Yet, the thought repulsed Reaper.

It was not in line with what he was trying to accomplish. Militarily it was the right move, but morally.

The paladin shook his head.

This was not a war, he thought, there were no clear sides in this conflict. Templar versus mage was not black and white, but a morass of shades of grey. Neither side could claim the moral high ground since both had split away from the chantry, the source of morality for almost a thousand years.

He looked up at Ser Amelia, she glanced his way but her face revealed nothing, if she approved of what Martel was doing, he could not say.

Reaper's brow furrowed.

He would not simply set back and let things play out.

His conscience demanded action.

"Knight-Commander," he called out.

Martel looked up at him, the cheers falling silent with his words.

Reaper stepped forward.

"I volunteer to deal with the remaining mage leader."

His request was met with shock by some, intrigue by others.

Ser Ryam sneered and laughed.

"And why would we trust someone like you with such a sensitive mission Scarface?"

Reaper's eyes narrowed.

Scarface was it?

"You are not one of us," the Templar continued, "You may have aided us, but that was for the faith, not the good of the order."

Martel nodded.

"Ser Ryam does bring up a point, Ser Reaper," he said.

"Does this man even deserve the honor of being called "Ser.'" Ryam added, "He does not wear our colors, and insists that he is no longer a member of the Templars, Despite having our training, and claiming to serve our interests."

"I serve the Maker's interests," Reaper said.

"That is your opinion," Ryam said with a frown, "It is the Templars now that speak with the Maker's voice. We alone have the strength and the courage to carry out his will and punish the apostates for daring to resist it. Your devotion to the old ways are misplaced and a danger to us all. In fact I do not know why we do not simply have you sent to Aeonar. You are clearly a dangerous freak, and must be…"

Reaper's eyes turned as cold as ice.

He had heard enough.

He reached out with his power.

Ser Ryam stopped speaking.

The Templar's face began to turn red, he gasped as if in pain.

The rest of the war council fell silent.

Reaper met the eyes of the Templar that had been insulting him.

The paladin smiled.

"A dangerous freak am I," he said, "Well, this freak received his new abilities from the Guardian of the Ashes himself, at the Maker's will if you believe in such things, abilities that I have used to serve the faith loyally since my…cleansing."

He let his eyes wander over the other's faces.

"Make no mistakes my fellow warriors of the faith. Fire cleanses."

Ser Ryam gripped the arms of his chair like his life depended on it. He was struggling not to cry out, though the burning of the lyrium in his blood must have been terribly painful.

Reaper continued.

"As for the scars on my face, they were given to me by a Templar, one who dared assault me as I emerged from Morning Prayer. The man was not just a murderer but a coward, and I lose no rest when I contemplate his end."

Reaper looked up at the Knight-Commander.

"I serve the will of the Maker, as we all cl…do. You are my superior, and speak with the voice of the order, the Maker's voice. So, I look to my Knight-Commander for guidance."

The paladin smiled cruelly.

"This man has value, but I leave it to you to decide if he should continue to serve, Knight-Commander. I will not let personal insult get in the way of me doing my duty. So I must ask…"

Reaper grinned.

"Should your servant spare this man or not?"

Martel was surprised by the offer, an a bit taken off guard. The others Ser Chadwick, Ser Geoffrey, and Ser Amelia were all watching Martel now. Ser Ryam, sweating now with tears in his eyes, also was looking at him, his eyes pleading for the man to choose to see him spared.

Martel sighed, and cracked his knuckles, his expression thoughtful.

"I will not break a sword before going into a battle, he said sagely, "Ser Reaper…you will release him."

The paladin nodded.

The heat rising from Ser Ryam ceased, the Templar nearly fell out of his chair, sighing as the burning sensation stopped.

Yet even at that moment of weakness, he glared at Reaper; that glare promising future vengeance for his embarrassment.

Reaper simply shrugged.

He was not afraid of Ser Ryam.

Try it boy, the paladin's expression seemed to say.

See what happens.

The Knight-Commander sighed.

"I will give your request thought, Ser Reaper," he promised, "We shall strike soon, so you will have your answer quickly.

He turned to his fellows then.

"The hand of Maker is moving brothers and sisters," he said, "And it moves in our favor, we shall soon crush the apostates and be free to take our rightful place as the true servants of the faith.

Again the crowd nodded.

"So prepare yourselves, we shall meet again in the morning."

The Knight-Commander rose.

"Dismissed!"

The other Templars rose as Martel left the tent; they waited until he was gone before going themselves.

Reaper did not go until last; he watched the others file out. Ser Ryam had left as fast as he could, despite any lingering pain he might still be in.

Ser Amelia came up beside the paladin, a hint of a smile on her face.

"You made an enemy today," she reminded him.

Reaper shrugged.

"He needed to learn respect.

"None doubt that," she said, "Ser Geoffrey and Ser Chadwick would certainly agree, though you need to move more carefully."

"Why is that?"

She smiled slyly.

"You made a statement today, and you certainly got the commander's attention. By asking his permission you both please him, but at the same time offered an indirect challenge. Had he chosen death and you spared Ser Ryam he would have looked weak, if he had chosen to spare and you killed the man Ser Ryam's enemies would have flocked to you."

"And the Knight-Commander could have seen me hanged for disobedience."

"Maybe," Amelia said, "What you did today, you made a powerful statement, the men won't forget that, but you should be careful how you proceed next."

"I know," Reaper said, "The knight-Commander will be watching."

"We are all watching."

Amelia smirked and did something completely unexpected.

She leaned in and kissed him.

Reaper blinked in surprise, the kiss had been chaste, but…

The female Templar grinned gamely at him.

"Tread lightly My Lord," she said, "And perhaps, we shall all get what we want."

She left him then, alone in the tent.

Reaper rubbed his lips thoughtfully, considering what had just happened.

 _Games within games,_ he thought.

 _Oh Dee._

 _What have I got myself into now?!_


	23. Rafe

**Chapter 23: Rafe**

"This is not the place for a proper lady, lass," Baelgun warned her, "these are folks are likely rougher than what you are used to."

As she stepped through the tavern door Dee did her best to suppress a laugh.

Baelgun meant well, she did not doubt that, in the short time they had gotten to know each other she realized that the dwarf was not as mercenary as he pretended to be.

 _He cares,_ she thought to herself, _both for his children and for those he sees as friends and allies._

She smiled slightly.

She was not certain, but she thought the old warrior considered her both now.

"I'm no fragile doll, Master Dwarf," she assured him, "And as for how "rough" these people are, I was born into a merchant family, between that, and my dealings during my recent travels, I think I can handle a visit to such a…establishment.

She heard the older dwarf sigh, whether with frustration or acceptance she could not say.

"As you say lass," he answered, "As you say."

The journey to the meeting had been a bit of a wake-up call for the blind sister. It had been a long time since she had travelled among the fringe elements of a major city. In Val Royeaux she had stayed mostly in and around the Grand Cathedral, when she travelled with Reaper their journeys usually took them to small villages and towns, settlements where the chantry was the biggest thing in the people's lives.

The cities…they had a different flow about them.

The Daces had thought it best that she not be dressed as a sister for this meeting, Chantry folk were not often seen in this part of town, nor were they particularly welcome. Lady Dace had offered her a long green gown and heavy grey cloak, she kept the hood pulled up to hide her features; beauty could be a curse in dark places where it was desired. She had no wish to cause trouble for herself.

She tapped along with her cane, the one with the dagger hidden in the hilt, while Baelgun guided her, and as they made their way, she listened closely to the world around her.

That lack of a chantry presence had allowed for many different views to flourish.

She heard an armor smith touting that his wares were runed against magical attacks, perfect tools for defeating the mage horde. A little farther down she heard another merchant offering books that would make even the most gentle of mages the match of any hardened Templar warrior.

She also heard an angry young voice condemning the chantry, the Templars and the mages. The firebrand shouted that at long last the chantry had revealed its true self, that the cruel opportunists that had sacked the Dales now were revealed for all to see. That the elven people should rise up and take their rightful place once again.

"A city elf causing trouble," Baelgun snorted.

"Pay him no mind. The guards are seeing to him."

Dee frowned. She listened to the sound of harsh voices, the clink of armor, and a stifled cry as the guards silenced the elf.

She was not sure she approved.

She knew enough about the Templar and mage problem to know that his cries of corruption were not baseless.

For so long the chantry had preached of the evils of the fallen elven kingdom. After the events of the last few months, she was not sure she could believe everything the chantry said at face value.

She had her faith, and still believed in the Maker, but could not deny that the chantry was built by men and women, and men and women were flawed mortal beings, they make mistakes.

Was the treatment of the elves yet another mistake?

She could not say for sure.

She tried to push such thoughts from her mind for now. She had a meeting to attend.

It was best that she prepare herself. She might need all her wits when she reached the tavern.

Baelgun had warned her to prepare herself.

The establishment in question was small hole in the wall tavern named _The Sailor's Lure_. It was one of many Denerim dockside establishments frequented by traders, sailors, and, as Baelgun had put it other unsavory characters who preferred to keep their business deals private.

 _Places of opportunity,_ her late mother would have called such an establishment. Dee knew that her mother had never been one to shy away from any opportunity, a necessary skill as she had built her business in an empire that, despite the many changes the Empress had enacted, remained a man's world.

Chivalry was all well and good, she thought, but that did not mean that a woman could not handle herself if she needed to. Sister Leliana would have understood that, the Divine too, had she asked.

Reaper would not like this, she thought, he would have insisted coming alone to such a place. He would not have wanted to her put herself at risk.

Of course, Reaper was not here. As far as she knew he was still with the Templars. She had contacted Ferrier twice since he had confirmed that her partner was still alive. So far, Leliana's agent had yet to determine if Reaper was a guest or a prisoner. All he could say for certain was that the paladin had yet to make contact at any chantry in eastern Ferelden. Either he could not make contact, or chose not to. She preferred the former. The latter was not something she wanted to think about.

It was clear she needed more help. The first step finding it began here, in _The Sailor's Lure_.

Hopefully, this place would yield a solution in her search for her partner…

…A search that would begin with the Dace family's business associate.

The man they knew as Rafe.

Baelgun guided her through the crowded tavern, the smell of sweat, tar, brine, and cheap ale was enough to make her dizzy. Hushed conversations ceased as they made their way past the various tables. Her sensitive hearing picked up bits and pieces of what was being said. Most of the conversations featured news on the war, what the people were now calling the mage rebellion.

The blind sister frowned.

She did not entirely agree with the name, the Templars had rebelled as well after all. Their combined military strength was more of a threat than any of the now free Circles of Magi.

She grasped Baelgun's shoulder, trusting the dwarf to lead her true, to her left was his son Keldon, covering them. His daughter Kindi sat at the bar, should she be needed. Dee was surprised by that, until the girl's brother had informed her that his sister was better with a dagger than most warriors he had known.

In such close quarters, Kindi was the perfect back up, if it came to that, but he did not think it would.

Rafe was a business man, and for the moment, all the business in had had with the Dace family had ended well for both parties.

He had no reason to cause them any trouble, and a chantry sister with a request for aid would be more than enough to peak his interest.

Just be polite and you will do fine, Baelgun assured her.

Rafe fancied himself a gentleman, despite his upbringing.

Treat him as such, and there would be no problem.

"What was his upbringing?" she had inquired before they had started out.

"It depends on who you ask, lass," the older dwarf admitted.

The man he knew as Rafe was Rivaini by birth, or so his dark skin suggested. Though still a young man he had earned a reputation in the last few years as a man who knew how to make the best of opportunities. Part gambler, trader, in formation broker, and confidence man, Rafe had become famous, or infamous, in many underworld circles.

It was rumored that he had recently been doing business with both the rebel mages and the Templars.

Such a man was exactly what Dee needed.

"He is also quite handsome," Kindi had added, "Those dark eyes and that smile."

The girl sighed.

Her brother snorted at that.

"I think his smile won't work on Sister Daelle," he reminded his sister, "Don't let your self be charmed, Sister. Rafe is not some gentleman. He dresses like an Orlesian, drinks like a dwarf, swears like a Fereldan, and knows pretty words and poisons as well as an Antivan."

"In other words, be mindful," Baelgun repeated.

"Don't underestimate Rafe."

She had nodded.

She would keep all that in mind.

The older dwarf found a table in the corner for them; he left Dee in the care of his son while he went to set up the meeting with his contact. Keldon stayed with her, to keep any of the regulars from sniffing around.

"Should we order something to drink?" she asked him.

"Not if you value your health," the young dwarf advised.

She chuckled.

 _Okay, no specials of the house._

As she often did when she entered such places she pricked her ears and listened. Unsurprisingly most of the conversations dealt with the war. Word of a skirmish here, or a Templar victory there, there was some speculation that King Alistair would lead the Ferelden army to join the Templars in pushing the mages out of Ferelden, while another rumor said that he would be marching soon in support of the Circle, that they had offered aid in reclaiming Highever and Amaranthine from the Templar forces.

She also listened for any rumors that sounded like Reaper. She listened for word of a warrior with a blazing sword, or talk of mages being defeated by a Templar that could stop them with just a wave of his hand.

So far, much to her disappointment, she heard nothing.

She sighed.

 _Reaper, she thought to herself._

 _Where are you?_

 _What is going on?_

She felt herself starting to slip into melancholy, afraid for what he might be facing at that very moment. The thought that her partner now willingly aided those that resisted the Divine made no sense. Surely, Reaper had some kind of plan, provided he was not being forced to aid them.

Perhaps he is being lied to, she thought, perhaps they claim to have me in custody,

Would he serve out of desire to keep her safe?

She could not say for certain.

Her partner's possible motivations continued to haunt her, forcing her thoughts down darker and darker paths.

She was grateful when Baelgun returned. It forced her to turn her attention to the now.

He had spoken with his contact.

Rafe was ready to meet with her.

IOI

She and Baelgun went in alone, the Rivaini kept a private room here when he wished to conduct business.

Apparently he paid the owners of the establishment to keep any prying eyes or ears at bay.

Dee might not have been able to see the place, but from what she had heard…

Well…she figured that the price had been cheap.

As she stepped through the door of the man's private quarters, she was met with the spell of perfume and strange exotic spices. Her fingers reached up and found a fine silk curtain near the door, a curtain so soft that it might have been made of air.

"Sister Daelle," she heard Baelgun say, "Allow me to introduce Rafe, gambler and business man."

She heard a man chuckle.

"Sounds better than confidence man and sometime pirate, I'll admit."

The voice was rich sounding, deep and masculine filled with confidence bordering on arrogance.

"Rafe," the dwarf continued, "Allow me to introduce you to Sister Daelle of the Chantry of Haven."

She heard a chair sliding back.

"Sister, it is an honor."

Dee removed her hood and curtseyed.

"Thank you for seeing me Serah," she said, "I hope that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement this eve."

She held out her hand.

Then…nothing.

There was a brief pause.

Dee frowned.

She wondered if she had said something wrong.

"Serah?"

The hand that touched hers was callused, but gentle, Rafe raised her hand and she felt a chaste kiss upon her knuckle.

"Forgive my silence, my dear lady," he said, "Baelgun said you were a sister, he did not say you were beautiful…."

"I was ensnared briefly; I hope you will not hold it against me?"

Dee smiled.

She wondered if such a line worked on other women, perhaps, Kindi said Rafe was handsome, warm eyes, a rich voice, and gentle smile had been known to ensnare the most devote of souls.

Fortunately for Dee, she could not see the man's eyes or smile.

It allowed her to stay focused on the job at hand.

"I hold nothing against you, good ser," she told, "Especially if you can provide me with what I need."

"Then I must endeavor to do just that," he said, "Please be seated, can I offer you some refreshment, a source of mine just acquired the most exquisite Antivan Brandy."

"A drink would be nice," she said, "Though I would prefer that we conclude our business first. I'm sure you are very busy man."

"I'm never too busy to see to the needs of a beautiful woman."

Dee heard Baelgun chuckle.

"You waste that pearly smile on this one Rafe ole' boy," he said, "She can't see it, and even if she could, she is sharp enough not to be dazzled by it."

"Then I must win the young lady's regard with my charm and winning personality," he said, "It will be more sporting that way."

Dee chuckled.

"You do not lack for confidence, Messere."

"Life is too short to be afraid, my fair sister," he said, she heard him sit back down the chair he sat in creaked as he leaned back.

"To business then," he began, "Baelgun said you have need of my contacts…"

"What can a humble businessman as I offer you?"

Dee smiled.

She told him what she needed.

He said nothing until she finished her story. She told him of Reaper and their mission to end this war between the Templars and mages. She told him of the shipwreck, the loss of her partner, and that she believed he now marched with the Templars.

"The Templars no doubt require supplies as they carry out their campaign," she said, "Men such as you know how to get such supplies. I was hoping that you might use your sources to verify that the Divine's servant, my partner, is alive and well, and possibly get a message to him, letting him know that he has not been abandoned, and that both I and the Chantry seek his return."

When she had finished, Rafe sighed, not a happy or confident sign to be sure.

"I could do as you ask sister," he said, "I do know people that could get into Knight-Commander Martel's camp, people that might even be able to get a letter to your friend."

Dee frowned.

"But?" she asked.

Rafe chuckled.

"Such a thing is not done easily, or cheaply."

"I have access to gold," she reminded him.

"I don't doubt it, but if Templars were to discover that I helped chantry agents infiltrate their camp, my business with them would probably be over, not a good thing with the war only just heating up and so many people trying to fill the needs of both the Templars and mages"

Dee's eyes narrowed.

"You seek to protect your future profits?"

"I'm a business man," he reminded her, "Profits are what I seek."

Dee fought he urge to curse the man for a coward, and a greedy one at that.

"It seems we have nothing else to say to each other then," she said starting to stand.

"One moment sister," he said quickly, "Gold is not the only thing that interests me. As a member of the chantry you have…access to certain sites around Ferelden. Places that, in the past, the Templars prevented people from walking."

Dee paused; she tried not to appear hopeful, though she could not deny that she felt it...

"What sort of places?" she asked.

"Places of power," he said with much amusement, "Or so I've been told. "One such place exists not far from here, a few days ride to the south. I'm told it was an elvish ruin once, but the chantry took it over and built a monument to Andraste and the Maker over it. Either to try and contain what was inside, or to try and make it their own."

Dee nodded. She knew such things had occurred, especially after the Exalted March on the Dales. The chantry had worked hard to erase any trace of the elven kingdoms, no matter where they found them.

"And what do you wish to do when you find this place, Messere?"

"Nothing nefarious, I assure you," he told her, "A longtime associate of mine was hanged recently. He used his last request to meet with me, and paid me to see a certain item taken to where it needed to go."

"What kind of item?" Dee asked.

"An amulet," he said, "Now I don't know why my friend wanted this, he was human, but I know he had little love for the chantry, perhaps he thought the elven gods would be more open to his prayers. The bottom line is that the "what" and the "why" don't matter, not to me, he paid up front and it was his dying wish. I don't break contracts, and I always do what I'm contracted to do."

Dee smiled slightly.

"That is very honorable of you."

"I'm an honorable guy," Rafe answered, Dee could imagine the smirk on his face.

"I doubt that is the only reason, Laddie," Baelgun said, "I don't remember you ever sticking your neck out for free."

"You may be wrong Baelgun," Dee said, "Though…I have heard rumors that the elves were known to store treasures in their important places, trusting the magic that they used to protect them."

The Blind sister's smile widened.

"I take it that such treasure, if it does exist, is worth more than what you could make either from me, or from the Templar/mage conflict?"

Again the Rivaini laughed.

"I will not confirm or deny that. If there were such valuables, the chantry might just decide to claim them, if they knew about them that is. Me, I'm willing to bet that value your partner more than any treasure. Perhaps even enough that you will let me enter where I need to go, find what I seek and fulfill my friend's final wish."

""What say you sister?" he asked, "A favor for a favor, which is a pretty good deal if you ask me."

Dee considered it.

If Rafe was telling the truth, did it really matter if he was after something that the chantry had never known about? Wasn't it worth letting him find what he was looking for if it helped her find Reaper?

I could do it, she thought; if the Templars had no men stationed there, she could convince any serving priests to let her and Rafe in.

How bad did she want Reaper back?

Was it worth what he was asking?

Dee nodded grimly.

Was it worth it?

Yes, she thought it was.

"It seems that your bet is about to pay off, Serah," she informed him.

Rafe chuckled.

"I'm a gambler sweet lady," he said warmly.

"Betting is what I do."


	24. The Favor

**Chapter 24: The Favor**

"It is not quite what I expected."

Dee listened as Rafe dismounted from his horse. A cool wind had come up, making her shiver slightly, though that might have more to do with where they were now standing rather than the cold.

"Yet…here we are," she heard him say in an amused voice, she could imagine the large pearly smile that Baelgun Dace described was still on his face.

"Might as well get started," he proclaimed.

Dee paused, unsure if this was the right thing to do, but seeing little choice.

She needed this man's aid.

She was prepared to do what it took to get it.

It had taken them almost three days to reach this place. A small stretch of chantry land nestled on the far edge of the Brecilian forest, after leaving the king's road, the group and gone up an old rough side road, a road that ended in front of a small chantry, a chantry that had been abandoned since the beginning of the war.

"This was more of a Templar garrison than a place of worship, built to keep people away from where we are headed," Rafe informed them, "I guess the soldiers just abandoned it when the order came to take up arms against the mages. According to what my late friend said, this place has been here so long, that it is likely that the people here forgot exactly what it was they were protecting."

He snorted with amusement.

"Lucky us."

"Yes Dee said with a sniff.

"Lucky us."

At her side rode Charter, as well as ten more agents that had joined the Nightingale's service, some that the blind sister knew, others she had just met for the first time.

"You have been recruiting?" she had asked the elven agent.

"Yes, the Nightingale felt that more eyes and ears are needed," the other woman said, "If things continue to fall apart, the Divine will need as much information as she can, especially if we need to move forward."

Dee nodded, not sure what that meant exactly. It was a good idea to know what was going on, but at the same time, the chantry **still** did not have a force capable of dealing with any rising threats.

 _Did the Divine intend to_ _ **recruit**_ _one? Had she secretly been making overtures to the Templars, trying to bring them back into the fold, and if so, who would lead them?_

What Charter meant by…moving forward…she had no idea.

She dismounted from her own horse, and waited as Charter did the same, the agent had insisted that she stay close to her, and be prepared to get behind her if the need arose. Though they had just met the elf clearly thought little of Rafe, and did not trust him to not try and play them false.

IOI

Three days earlier, Charter and her agents had come for Dee and Rafe, to serve, at Sister Leliana's request, as their escorts. They had met them at the Dace family home in Denerim, and the Rivaini businessman had done little to win over Charter's trust.

The elf had been downright cordial to Baelgun and his family; such was her gratitude at seeing to one of Leliana's favored. Rafe, however, had tried turning on the charm, but found it rebuffed.

Charter had been in Leliana's service for a while now; charm and flirtations had little or no effect on her, especially when she was on mission.

Before setting off, the elf had pulled her aside, to speak privately, she assured Dee that Leliana supported her desire to see Reaper found, but wondered if this was the best possible answer to achieve that goal.

"He has contacts that we do not have access to," Dee assured her, "He can help us find Reaper, and with luck will be able to get a message to him, so that we can give him whatever he needs to return us."

"Are you sure that is what he wants," Charter had asked.

"Of course," Dee had insisted, "What else would it be?"

The agent paused.

"You have to admit," she finally said, "It seems strange that Reaper would just go off with the Templars so freely. One would wonder if they had not made him a better offer."

Dee's eyes narrowed.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing," the elf said, "I'm just saying that Reaper was once a Templar, perhaps he has decided to return to the fold."

"He would not do that," Dee hissed, "He would not betray us."

"I did not say that he did."

"You _implied_ it though."

"I'm only playing demon's advocate."

"Well you can stop," Dee spat back, "He would not do that, not to us."

Again the elven agent paused.

Dee shifted uncomfortably.

She might not have been able to see, but she had spent enough time around Charter in the last two years to recognize when the other woman had more to say.

"What?" Dee demanded.

"I'm sorry sister," she said, "but I can't shake the feeling that when you say "us" you are not referring to the chantry."

Dee's mouth snapped shut, she was not sure, but she feared she might be blushing.

"A smart person might think," Charter continued, "that you are allowing your personal feelings for Reaper to influence your judgment on this matter."

The suggestion angered Dee, not because it was off base, but perhaps…just maybe…

..She suspected that Charter might be right.

And whose fault would it be if it were true, the blind sister wondered, she had gotten the feeling months ago that Leliana had hoped that she and Reaper might become more than friends. Was it so impossible to understand that a man and woman travelling together over a period of time would not start getting ideas, and be tempted to act on those ideas?

No, it wasn't, but that did not mean that Charter was right.

Dee still held true to her vows. Leliana had made it clear that Reaper was a chantry asset that needed to be retrieved.

She would not simply abandon him now.

"We continue on with this," she informed the elf, "The Nightingale gave me leave to proceed however I deemed necessary, and that is what we will do."

Charter sighed in surrender.

"As you wish sister," she said, "but I would advise you to be careful, this…this Rafe, person."

The elf hissed slightly.

"I do not trust him."

Dee laughed at that admission.

"He would no doubt say that was smart of you."

"Yes," Charter agreed.

"I suppose he would."

IOI

"What is he doing now?" Dee asked her escort.

"He has stopped to look at one of the statues near the entrance," Charter said, with more than a hint of distaste, "There are several small one scattered around the edges of the clearing, tributes to the Divine and her disciples, I think."

The sister frowned, so far it sounded like any other holy spot she had visited, and yet, she could not shake the strange feeling of foreboding here, a sense of unease that not even being surrounded by armed allies could dispel.

"The veil is thin here," Tailor, another of the Nightingale's agents had informed them, "Something happened here once, something very bad."

Dee considered that, she found herself thinking back to the lair of the Werewolves in the Brecilian Forest, it had had a similar feel, though not so…acute.

She found herself wondering if Rafe had made a mistake in wanting to come here.

"What does it look like Charter," she asked the agent, "Can you describe this place to me?"

The elven woman sighed.

"We have arrived in an open clearing. There are signs of neglect, cobwebs; some of the statues here are broken in places. This place appears to have been abandoned for a long time, yet, the grass is short, and looks strangely healthy considering the wood around here looks so….sickly There are several large stumps scatted about, all that remains of the trees that once grew here, there is also a lot of rubble that was likely torn down statues. A small altar in the center, and a statue of Andraste standing behind it, as well as several melted candles, and the remains of holy offerings."

Dee's brow furrowed. Something in Charter's voice did not sound right.

She tilted her head slightly.

"Anything else?" she asked, "You sound troubled."

Again, Charter sighed.

"I'm loyal to the Divine and the chantry," she said, "Yet I can't help but wonder what this place looked like _before_ the chantry… _reclaimed_ it."

The elf coughed.

"Whatever was here, it was a part of my heritage, part of elvish history, my people's world."

Dee nodded.

There was really nothing she could say to that.

Most elves these days worshipped Andraste and the Maker, she knew that. Their ancestors had been taken from their fallen homeland and given a place in human society, their rightful place some fools might say.

However, that had not been enough for some members of the faith. Those zealots had tried to track down and destroy every remaining link between the elves and their past. Statues were destroyed. Trees were cut down, and piles of books and manuscripts had been destroyed.

A waste, Dee thought to herself, and a disrespectful one at that.

It was unworthy of the chantry, especially after the elves had aided in Andraste's fight against the imperium.

During her service in Haven, one of the scholars had unearthed a manuscript dealing with the disciple Shartan, the elf that had led his people in joining Andraste, and who had died at her side when she had burned. Shartan's sacrifice, and that of his people, had earned the elf their lands in the Dales.

A zealous younger sister thought the work should be burned before anyone else could see it. That it would only lead to heresy. Leliana had stopped her, reminding the girl that so much had been lost of Andraste's life already, it would be a crime to destroy something that was a direct link to her, and her disciples, regardless of what had happened later.

They may not have worshipped the same gods, but that did not mean the elves had not had a part to play in the Maker's plan, a part they continued to play. To deny their role in what had happened was the height of pride and arrogance.

Leliana had had the manuscript copied several times and sent off to be examined, but not before reading the translation herself, and sharing it with Dee. It had been a simple story, telling of a day in Shartan's life during the march, his respect for Andraste and his dreams of a home, of a home for his people.

After reading it, Sister Leliana had turned to her student.

"This is not heresy," she said, "this is history, and worthy of our attention."

The Blind sister had nodded in agreement. It was rare that a member of the chantry would take up such a stance, preferring to cling to the idea of the evils of the Dales, and that elven history was something separate from their own.

The fact that Leliana thought otherwise, was proof that she was more than simply another follower of the faith.

It was one of many moments that Dee had been proud to be Sister Leliana's student.

"Don't touch that," Charter snapped, breaking her out of memory.

Again she heard the Rivaini chuckle.

"These statues are quite lovely," he said to her, "I've seen their like before; the chantry sent whole shipments of these to the Dales during the Exalted March."

"So what," Charter said flatly.

"Sooo," Rafe replied, "You would be surprised how many came back home with the faithful after the march ended. "

Dee frowned.

"You are talking about _reliquaries_ ," she said.

"Actually, I'm talking about _treasure_ ," he answered, "As the holy march continued, knights continued taking spoils from the elven kingdom. Now the chantry could not openly support the pillaging of elven homes and estates, so the knights and soldiers who marched beneath their banner were all expected to turn over everything of value they took over to the priests so that they could use such valuables to see to the needs of the army."

Rafe laughed at that.

"As you can imagine, that did not go over so well with everyone. Not every soldier that marched to the Dales was motivated entirely by faith. Nor were they all wealthy lords and ladies who could afford to simply return home with nothing."

Dee considered what he was saying; a light went off inside her head.

"They hid the treasures that they stole in statues," Dee said quickly.

She heard the sound of applause.

"Bravo sister, bravo," Rafe said, "statues such as these were made on the cheap, as gifts to the newly, "liberated" elves, freed from the bonds of their heretical rulers. I suspect that the priests that accompanied the soldiers were more than pleased to let members of the faith take a statue or two home with them, so that they could have a symbol of the faith to show their fellows back home, proof of their piety."

Charter had been listening as well, and when she responded, her voice was cold.

"You do not think much of the faith, do you smuggler?"

"I see myself more of an _adventurer_ than a _smuggler,_ my good woman," the Rivaini replied, "not that I have not done a bit of smuggling in my time. Of course, not everyone was as lucky as I've been, especially during the fall of the Dales. Many knights were killed on the Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves, the last of the elven army put up a far better fight than the chantry expected. Of course, when those men died, some of the statues they had been about to send home ended back in Chantry hands, to be sent to places like this."

Rafe snorted with amusement.

"Part of me has to wonder if that is why the chantry sealed this place off. Perhaps someone knew what was likely hidden here, and planned to come back for it later."

The Rivaini sighed.

"Oh well, their loss is my gain."

Dee pursed her lips.

She found herself torn between her need for this man's contacts, and her own sense of morality.

What did it matter if Rafe helped himself to whatever some long dead knight had hidden hundreds of years ago? Had those men not tainted the chantry's honor by using these reliquaries in the first place? Should such men have been rewarded for their thievery, thievery that they performed while destroying an entire people's way of life?

Dee found herself thinking of Aneirin, how kind the healer had been. What kind of man could he have become had the Dales not fallen? The chantry taught that it was for the best, a righteous mission, but Dee had seen enough in the last two and a half years to know that what was said was not always so.

She had no room to judge, not Rafe, nor those men and women who had attacked the Dales all those years ago.

"Aren't you forgetting something Rafe?" she asked.

"And what is that, dear lady?"

"Your friend's dying wish," she reminded him, "You were supposed to leave his amulet here were you not?"

"Right you are, my dear," the Rivaini replied, "Right you are."

She heard the sound of Rafe digging around in his bag.

She found herself wondering for, not the first time, what had prompted Rafe's late associate to make such a strange request.

He had let her hold the amulet in question, both to satisfy her curiosity, and to hopefully win her favor. It had been a strange item to be sure, rough around the edges, yet containing a smooth oily feeling stone. It had also been sharp on one side, which the Rivaini had warned her against, not wishing to see her cut herself.

She felt what she thought were runes around the stone, but did not recognize them, not dwarven then, that was for certain.

Not the type of thing one would usually find in the hands of an outlaw about to be hanged; that was for certain.

"Who was this friend of yours," she had asked Rafe during this journey, "The one that wanted you to do this."

"He was a privateer during the Blight," Rafe informed her, "made a bit of coin raiding Orlesian shipping for Teyrn Loghain. Ferelden by birth, but he spent a lot of time in the Free Marches and off the coast or Orlais. After that, he disappeared for a while; no one knew where, not even his creditors, turned up in Denerim again, about six months ago, bedraggled, desperate, and with just enough gold to buy my services. He did not tell me why, but he admitted to being hunted by both the Templars and soldiers out of Amaranthine."

"What did he do to warrant such attention?"

"I don't know," the man had confessed, "I watched at execution dock when he finally met his end, after that, his body was burned and that was that. All I know is that he paid up front for me to see his little item here safely to its new home.

"Who am I to deny a last request?

She heard the sound of several objects being pushed off something and onto the ground. Rafe, no doubt, was clearing off the altar. She thought she heard a soft tinking sound as the Rivaini set the amulet down on the stone.

"What are you doing?" she heard Charter say.

"My friend gave me a scroll to read," Rafe informed her, "Some prayer, I think, he wished it read over the amulet, a final farewell, or some such shit."

Dee listened as Rafe read the words aloud, not the king's tongue that was for sure…elvish perhaps, though not spoken as musically as they would have been from an elven tongue.

As the Rivaini continued the air seemed to grow colder, the wind picked up.

A shiver went down Dee's spine, a sense of something unnatural perhaps...

…A sense that something was wrong.

"STOP!" Tailor shouted.

"DON'T FINISH THAT SPELL!"

Dee blinked.

Spell? She…

The wind roared like an angry dragon.

Both she and Charter were thrown to ground!

Dee could hear the lashing of the trees and the sound of breaking stone, the horses hobbled nearby shrieked with fear, no doubt trying to free themselves from their tethers. Leaves blew across her face, so hard that they left small red slashes on her skin. A keening sound filled the air, a sound like a wailing child.

Dee screamed for Charter, but her voice was lost in the storm. In that moment she feared she had made a terrible mistake.

Andraste forgive me, she thought.

What have we done!?

The howling continued to build and build, Dee feared that her ears drums might shatter that she would be left alone in a silent hell, and then quick as it had begun it was over…

The world fell silent.

Dee coughed spitting grit and leaves. She heard several groans around her, so at least she wasn't alone. She…

"ARM YOURSELVES!" Charter shouted, "All OF YOU! UP! ARM YOURSELVES! CROFTER…PULL THE RIVAINI BACK! Tailor, Butcher, the rest of you, **spread out!"**

Dee heard the sound of steel leaving its sheath. She felt a frisson of fear, wondering what had happened.

It sounded like Rafe had survived as well, but the question now was, what was it that he had survived?

Tailor had called what Rafe was saying a spell, but what kind of spell?

What had the Rivaini done?

"I only see one." Charter growled, "Stay sharp, there might be more!"

"What is it!?" Dee shouted, "What is going on!"

"There is someone standing where the alter was," the elf replied, "They are armed with a staff."

Dee blinked.

 _A mage? But…but how could a mage just appear?!_

"Lower the staff," Charter shouted, "We have you surrounded!"

Dee reached into her sleeve, pulling out the dagger she kept hidden there.

Whatever had happened, she suspected that it was like nothing they had experienced before.

"You can put down your weapons," a new voice called out.

"I mean you no harm."

Dee pursed her lips.

The voice was strong, commanding even, the type of voice that was comfortable with giving orders. Yet at the same time it sounded…pretty, that it would have been better suited to singing a song than barking orders.

A woman's voice, she realized, a young woman.

She heard coughing and a groan, and her side she heard something like someone struggling to their feet.

"Well," Rafe coughed.

"That was…unexpected."

As he rose, he must have caught the eye of the mage that they now faced.

A soft musical laugh filled the air.

"Well," the mage said sarcastically, "It seems that I was right to trust you Rafe. You did exactly as I said."

The Rivaini snorted in response.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

The mage laughed.

"I probably look a great deal better than when last we spoke, but I'm surprised you don't recognize me."

The mage chortled.

"I've not been dead that long have I?"

The Rivaini did not respond right away, Dee imagined the scene playing out before them, a single mage, with Leliana's agents surrounding her.

Who was this mysterious woman that claimed to know Rafe?

Did he not remember her?

"Andreas?" Rafe asked, "Andreas is that you?"

Again the mage laughed.

"Who else you old outlaw," the mage said, "Who else would have the knowledge to use the amulet in such a way."

Dee blinked, not sure what was going on.

To her surprise Rafe chuckled.

"Well you do look a little different then last we met." He told the mage.

"Eh?" the mage, Andreas replied, "What do you mean?"

"You should probably look in a mirror, shipmate," he said, "There has been some changes."

It was then that Dee found her voice again.

"Rafe," she asked, "who is this woman?"

The mage made a squawking sound.

" _Woman?_ What are you talking about girl? I'm no…"

She heard the sound of something shifting on the ground, the mage, Andreas, Rafe had called her picking something up.

Rafe snickered.

"Andreas just found one of your friends' kite shields," he informed her, "It is shiny enough to be used as a mirror, I think."

The Rivaini could not hide the amusement in his voice.

"This is going to be good.

There was another brief pause and then…

"No!" the mage gasped, "NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, **NO!"**

She heard a crash the shield likely striking one of the statues. None of the agents positioned around her said anything; they were likely as confused as she.

" **DAMN YOU!"** the mage woman shouted to the sky, **"DAMN YOU TO THE BLACKEST CORNER OF THE FADE!"**

Thunder rumbled above them, but any storm was likely secondary to the mage's anger.

Dee and her fellows said nothing, not wishing to draw the strange woman's wrath, even though they seemed to be forgotten, as the woman shouted up at the sky, venting her rage at a distant enemy.

" **YOU LYING BITCH!"** the mage shouted.

" **DAMN YOU MORRIGAN! YOU LYING BITCH!"**


	25. The Sacrifice

**Chapter 25: The Sacrifice**

Reaper had been meditating inside his tent when Ser Amelia finally came for him with Knight-Commander Martel's orders. She had not even bothered to have the guard outside the paladin's tent alert him to her arrival. Such an arrival was a breach of privacy true; and definitely against tradition etiquette of the order, but, considering the new world that the order now found itself; such niceties were quickly growing extinct.

"I need to see him," he heard her inform the guard as she swept past him. The speed of her actions prevented those men trusted to watch him from doing anything more than squawk with surprise.

 _A bold move,_ Reaper thought to himself with a hint of a smile. _Bold and unsurprising…_

…he expected nothing less from the Knight-Commander's… _confidant._

She brazenly threw back the flap and strode inside. Though he heard her approach he did not bother getting up.

Had she wished to harm him, she would not have come so loudly. Of course, this might all have been some ploy to catch him off guard.

He had made enemies since coming here after all.

He was just not certain if the Knight-Commander was one of them.

"Yes," he said not bothering to open his eyes, not even to look her way.

"You have something for me Amelia?"

"You could say that," the woman admitted, the excitement in her voice not totally hidden beneath the normal steely calm that came with years within the order.

"Knight-Commander Martel had approved your request," she said.

"You have been given the chance to end the West Hill problem."

Reaper nodded. He was pleased, though a bit surprised.

"He wants me to do it?" he asked her, "Just like that?"

"He can think of no better candidate," She replied, "there are those among us who believe that you deserve a chance to prove yourself."

Reaper frowned slightly.

"And no doubt those who wish to see me fail?"

"Just so," she agreed, "For the time being, those in the former category outnumber the latter. They prefer to have you on our side rather than have you become neutral or openly our enemy."

He finally opened his eyes and looked at her, her face flushed, her eyes flashing with excitement.

"And on which side do you fall, Amelia?"

She smirked, her mischievous smile and dimpled cheek would have been cute had she not been clad in Templar armor.

She kneeled down and stroked his scarred cheek with a bare hand.

"I think you know what side I'm on," she purred.

 _That remains to be seen,_ he thought to himself. He was still not entirely sure that this wasn't all some test. Ser Amelia would not have risen so high, or so fast, in Martel's company had she not been loyal, or at least appeared to _**be**_ loyal.

"Is that why you have come?" he asked, "To show your… _loyalty?_ "

She laughed dismissively.

"Considering the statement you made the other night, few knights would risk entering here unbidden."

He considered that.

It made sense he supposed.

Since his "statement" during the recent war counsel, the other knights and officers _**were**_ giving him a wide berth. He had expected Ser Geoffrey or Chadwick to seek him out, given their mutual opposition and disdain for Ser Ryam and his methods, Amelia had thought that either one or both of them might have come to pay the paladin a visit.

So far, he had heard nothing, and was a bit unsure of what to make of that.

Perhaps things were not as divided as he thought. Perhaps Martel was smarter player in this little game, and Reaper was now merely a pawn being moved across a board?

 _And perhaps a dragon will come down and burn this camp to the ground,_ his conscience chided; _you are giving Martel_ _ **far too**_ _much credit. Had he been so skilled in the grand game, he would be higher placed in the order by now, and considering news coming out of Amaranthine, it is clear that he is not omnipotent._

That thought gave the paladin pause, and likely every other Templar in this camp as well.

He nodded grimly to himself.

Amaranthine had been a surprise to be sure.

He was wondering how the Knight-Commander was dealing with it.

Amelia could barely contain the nervous energy inside of her, she rose and began to pace, he watched her carefully, digesting everything he was seeing.

"News of what happened outside Val Royeaux is spreading quickly," she reminded him, "None here have begun to question our purpose yet, but it is clear that the new recruits are a bit shaken by what has happened."

"This was never going to be a war won in a single battle," Reaper said with a shrug, "Despite what Lord Seeker Lambert thought."

Amelia paused, hurt shown in her eyes.

"I do not speak ill of the dead," he added quickly, "I'm merely analyzing the situation that sits before us."

She continued to watch him for a few minutes more, before nodding, accepting what he had said.

It was clear that the lady Templar had held Lambert Van Reeves in high regard, and despite her own ambitions likely still mourned his passing.

Reaper filed that information away for now.

It might prove useful later.

"The mages fought harder than we expected," she admitted to him, "Plus we did not expect them to have so many sell-swords in their company. Lord Seeker Lucius was too cautious when he finally engaged them, Lord Lambert would have pushed harder, brought us our first victory."

Reaper did not respond to that. He did not wish to anger the Templar woman further, not while she seemed to be his best chance to get closer to the Martel and the other officers.

Amelia shook her head and hissed with frustration.

"To have problems in Amaranthine so soon after getting such news from abroad, it does not bode well for our war effort."

In this the two of them were in agreement.

Amaranthine had not been well handled.

IOI

It had begun with one of the knight-lieutenants left in charge of the garrison there. He had dispatched his knights throughout the city, to seek out any person with magical talent. The goal of course was to search for mage spies, and to prevent the liberated circles from finding new recruits. Since these types of searches had been done before the war with impunity, the Templars thought that the people of Amaranthine would have no problem with them. At first, that had seemed like the case, but then the son of a local merchant had been taken into custody, a powerful well connected merchant…

That had been when the **real** troubles began.

Without the chantry to back them up, or a circle to take the boy to, the Templars had been forced to hold him in their garrison. The father had first offered coin for his release, and when that had failed, had started threatening to make things difficult for the order if they refused to return his heir to him. The lieutenant had sent word to Martel asking of guidance, the Knight-Commander had replied, or so rumor said, with the order that the boy was to be released back into his father's custody.

The lieutenant followed through, but not before making sure the boy would be no threat to the order in the future.

He returned the boy, as ordered, but only after performing the rite of tranquility on him. He had taken a passionate young man, and returned an empty vessel.

The merchant had been less than pleased; in fact he had been livid.

And every Templar in Amaranthine quickly suffered his wrath.

His contacts in the city seized the Templars' lyrium shipment. Patrols had to be suspended when several knight had been found tarred and feathered. Two nights ago, someone had tossed bottles of burning oil through the windows of the barracks, nearly causing the death of five knights sleeping within.

When the lieutenant tried to arrest the man for treason, a riot had broken out in the streets, the Templars had been forced to fall back to their ships, they had not abandoned the city yet, but it was clear the father of the tranquil boy had powerful friends.

Friends that were now enemies of the Templar order.

Martel had written to the Bann, asking for help, but the noble refused his request. The Bann of Amaranthine was understandably angry that the Templars had started seizing his citizens, and without the chantry to give these seizures legitimacy, the order now faced the real possibility that they would be forced to abandon Amaranthine.

If that was not bad enough, word of what had happened reached Highever, Teyrn Cousland was now openly reconsidering the decision to let the Templars stay.

Martel knew he needed to do something, the more militant of his supporters wanted to strike at both Amaranthine and Highever, to teach them a lesson, but in doing so they would only alienate the nobles, nobles who they still needed if they wished to maintain their hold on the ports.

The Knight-Commander was no fool, he knew he could not fight the mages, and the Ferelden nobles at the same time. Suddenly the business in West Hill took on a greater significance.

If the mages could be driven out of West Hill, the Templars could move in. If they needed to withdraw from Amaranthine, West Hill would still allow them to hold power on the Waking Sea.

A victory over the mages in west hill would silence the more militant Templars in his service; while at the same time give the nobles in Amaranthine and Highever some space, a chance to calm down.

Martel needed both things right now, and it seemed that he was willing to trust Reaper to help him get it.

IOI

"We just need to deal with the mages' remaining leader," Amelia assured him, "After that, the loyalists will flee to the road, where we can destroy them."

 _Reasonable,_ Reaper thought, but at the same time he was still not completely sold on this plan.

The mages living in West Hill right now were chantry loyalists, and had declared themselves neutral in this conflict.

What Martel was doing _could_ backfire, if something went wrong, they would have even **more** enemies standing against them.

That was not good, considering recent events.

"This has to get done," Amelia assured him, "We need to this."

She stepped forward, letting her hand rest on his chest. When he looked into her eyes there was something there that he had not seen before, intensity, a certainty.

" **You** must do this."

"You do realize that this is likely a trap," he said.

"Yes," she admitted.

"That Martel simply wishes to be rid of me, and likely hopes that I will either be killed doing this, or that one of his loyal soldiers will make sure that I don't return."

"There is that possibility," she said, "But at the same time, there is a great opportunity here, for both of us."

The paladin's brow furrowed.

"Us?" he inquired.

She smiled shyly.

"Things are changing," she said, "This war is not going like the Knight-Commanders said that it would. Strength is needed now, more than ever, a leader that can both inspire the men and keep the officers' ambitions in check."

"And you…believe that is me?"

"Why not," she asked, "The Lord Seeker knew there was more to you than a simple sword. He had such grand plans for you."

Reaper considered that, He had only spoken with Lambert once, but he remembered what had passed between them, what had been said.

Changes are coming, the man had said.

Did he realize exactly what it was that he had been about to unleash?

"The Lord Seeker believed in you," she said, "After your meeting, he sent four of his most trusted knights to Haven, to converse with the Guardian of the Ashes."

Excitement shined in the Templar woman's eyes.

"He had hoped that the guardian would favor those men as he favored you. That he would accept them, and give them the same gifts that he gave you."

Reaper kept his expression bland, though he was surprised to hear this.

The Knight-Commander…wanted to make his own paladins?!

"What became of those men?" he asked, though he already suspected he knew the answer.

"The flames consumed them," she answered with much sorrow in her voice, "Perhaps they were not as strong as you, my lord."

 _Fools,_ he thought to himself, _both the men who had died and Lambert himself._

Had anyone asked him about such an action, he would have advised against it.

The guardian had told him that he was destined to walk this path alone.

No other man, or woman, would be allowed to follow it.

His return had nothing to do with strength. It had been a matter of what had been in his heart when he fell, a sacrifice to save others, those he called brothers and sisters.

It was a choice that the guardian himself had made long ago. He had been willing to stay behind, to carry on his duty, knowing that he would lose everything he had ever loved, everything he had ever known. He would give his life to Andraste, defending her from those who would harm her legacy, and her promise.

A thought occurred to Reaper then, one that he did not like to think about.

 _Was **this** why the Guardian had taken the ashes and fled? Had he feared that the ashes would be harmed if fighting broke out between the chantry, the mages, and the Templars?_

If that was so, then it was the chantry itself that caused the ashes to be lost again, all the good they could have done, the faithful they could have inspired, it was all lost because of the ambitions of the few.

Fury began to build in his breast, had Lord Seeker Lambert still lived, he might have killed the man himself for choosing his own desires over the service he had sworn.

He said none of this to Amelia of course.

He saw a new course for himself, and the Templar order.

He just needed the strength to carry it out.

"I've spoken with Ser Chadwick," Amelia informed him, "Many of the young knights respect him, and he is friendly with those training our new recruits. Succeed on this mission and he will support your rise through the ranks."

"What of Knight-Commander Martel?" he asked, "I can't imagine he would be happy to hear this."

"He would not, she agreed, "But these are desperate times, history is on the move, and those not willing to adapt and can't keep up will be left behind."

She leaned in close to him, her breast plate clinking against his. When she spoke her voice was soft, conspiratory, and husky.

"You do not wish to serve, Martel, I can see that in your eyes, my lord. The men are in awe of you, and they are smart enough to fear your strength, with the right help, you could seize control of this army and with it the rest of the order as well. You could unify us all under a common banner again. You could remake the Templars in your image, a force to _**truly**_ protect the faith."

Reaper said nothing, but in truth he had been considering this more and more.

What Lambert had torn asunder, **he** could mend, binding the order back to the chantry. He could lead the Templars back into the service of the chantry, and from there, from that position of power; negotiate a true peace with the Circle of Magi.

He felt a hunger burning in his blood, a growing lust to accomplish just that. He could save the chantry all by himself, if he had strength and will to do it.

For the brief moment all thought of the Chantry, of Dee, faded.

He could end the corruption himself, not by putting out one fire at a time, but stopping the inferno at the source.

He could bring the order back to where it needed to be, and if any of the old guard stood in his way, well…

They would need to be removed.

Again Amelia brushed his face with her fingers; her touch was feather light, but hot like the flames that burned with him.

"You would find me a willing and able servant, my lord," she whispered, "Whatever you needed of me, I would do."

He shuddered under her touch; a nervous breath escaped his lips. He did not need to be a mind reader to know what she was asking, what she was offering if he joined her in this.

 _Was it a trap?_ He could not say. Clearly she wanted more of him than simply his skills and leadership, and she was calmly enough, make no mistake on that.

He felt the stirring of desire. Yet, when he closed his eyes, it was not the Templar woman he wanted to fulfil those wants and needs.

No, he realized, he only had eyes for a certain blind sister, and just thinking of her was enough to push back any thought of giving into carnal wanting for the woman standing before him.

No, he would hold that desire in check, but that did not mean that he was not interested in her offer, trap or no, this was too good to be true, a chance to bring the Templars under his control.

A chance to return them to their proper path, it was an opportunity that he could not pass up.

He smiled as he took her hand in his, kissed her knuckle, and guided it gently back to her side.

"I will not deny that I'm…intrigued by this," he confessed.

She smiled brightly, no doubt thinking him firmly in her camp.

"We shall discuss what I want later," he promised, "After we have dealt with the mages."

Yes," she said smiling mischievously again.

"After you have dealt with the mages."

Reaper nodded.

Yes, _he_ would deal with the mages.

Then…it would be the Templars' turn.

Some might not like it, but that is what had to happen.

The Maker asked hard choices of his servants, sacrifices.

It was time for the Templars to pay up.


	26. The Ally

**Chapter 26: The Ally**

The Nightingale's agents returned to their safe house on the outskirts of Denerim. The journey back had been quiet for the most part, though they did have to take a detour when they heard warnings of a Templar checkpoint on the king's road. Normally they would have tried to pass through, but the situation was far from normal.

They had a mage travelling with them now.

Some Templars might consider that guilt by association.

In the end Charter chose that discretion was the better part of valor.

They kept their distance.

Speaking of the mage, the woman that Rafe referred to as Andreas had lapsed into a sullen silent. She could have tried to flee, but Dee convinced her that would be a bad idea.

Templars had the northern coast all bottled up, and, according to Charter, had now begun to establish patrols along the king's road and into the eastern villages. They were stopping anyone they judged to be threatening; they were searching wagons and anything the travelers they stopped were carrying, helping themselves to any valuables.

 _Thievery_ , Dee thought with a frown, _**common**_ _thievery_. She had thought the order better than that. Of course, valuables were not the only thing the Templars were after, they were also searching for mages, and what they called "mage sympathizers."

If the Templars caught Andreas, he, she, or whatever it was the mage was now; would likely be in trouble, and _they_ would likely be _equally_ in trouble for travelling with her, guilty by association. It was a risk to be sure, but Charter claimed to know where all the Templar checkpoints were, information that the mage did not have.

So, the group gained a new companion, at least for now.

What happened after they reached the capital would be another story.

For her part, Dee remained silent during the journey. She spent much of that time trying to decide how best to proceed. She now had access to Rafe's contacts among the Templars, provided that he had not embellished his standing with the order.

Now she needed to decide how best to use them.

As for the Rivaini himself, he was not in the best of moods. He had expected to return with his horse loaded down with elven treasure…

…Instead he came back with nothing.

" **What do you mean the story of the reliquaries was a lie!"** he nearly shouted at the mage.

Andreas laughed.

"It got you out there, didn't it? You never were the type to stick your neck out for an old colleague, Rafe," she said grinning, "I thought you needed a bit more motivation, the chance of finding hidden treasure worked nicely."

When next the mage spoke, Dee could hear the venom in her words, the venom and the disdain.

"What I **didn't** think is that you would go running to the chantry for help. So much for you vaunted smuggling skills."

After that the two barely spoke, which was perhaps a good thing. Dee did not know the full history between them, it worked out better for her and Charter if the two were fighting, she did not need them plotting to turn this strange situation to their advantage.

She still needed Rafe's contacts; she needed to make sure that the man would remain open to her desires, as for the mage…well…

…that was something else entirely.

In a way, she was grateful for the trip back to the city, it had given her time to think...

…Time that she desperately needed.

Upon their return, Rafe wished to leave, he claimed to have business elsewhere in the city. Charter stopped him, before the Rivaini could protest Dee spoke up.

"Once you have fulfilled your debt to me you may go wherever you wish," she promised him, "I'm sorry that things did not turn out as profitable as you wished, but that does not mean that there is no opportunity for you to come out ahead in this."

Behind her Andreas snorted with amusement.

"You think seeing someone come back from the dead would be impressive enough."

"Had it been anyone else but you, shipmate," Rafe replied, "It might have been."

The mage grumbled something under her breath.

It was then that the rogue returned his attention to Dee.

"I made a deal in good faith, fair sister," he said, "I will see that deal through, you have my word."

Dee nodded, that was good enough for her.

She had known men like Rafe, back before she had joined the chantry. They could be loyal, as long as the money was good and held out. People could say what they wanted about the chantry, but no one could say that it was poor.

Money would keep the man loyal, Dee was sure of that.

Charter, however, was not so easily convinced.

"Move both of you," she said referring to the rogue and mage respectfully, "We will find a place for you inside."

With that the lead agent took Dee by the arm and guided her inside as well.

"I hope you know what you are doing," she murmured in the blind sister's ear.

Dee frowned slightly.

So do I, she thought to herself.

IOI

Dee waited until everyone had settled in for the night before finally making her move.

Charter took her by the arm and led her to one of the small bedrooms within the safe house. The one they had put the mage up in.

The sister could feel the tension in the elven woman's arm; it might have well been an iron bar; that was how tense the agent was.

"Are you sure about this?" Charter asked her.

Dee shrugged; in truth she was not really sure about anything. Events had taken a turn that she had not expected, and now she was simply trying to make the best of it.

"Sister Leliana told me once," the blind sister began, "That a problem can be an opportunity in disguise."

She smiled slightly.

"I intend to make the best of _this_ opportunity."

Charter snorted at that. Clearly the elf had strong feelings about what Dee hoped to accomplish. Even after Dee had explained her reasoning to her.

The agent's reaction did little to put the sister's mind at ease.

"You have a problem seeking the aid of a mage?" she asked Charter.

"Of a mage, no," the elf replied, "Of whatever it was that we saw appear out of that amulet, yes."

Charter sighed heavily.

"Do not forget sister," she said, "The mage was hanged for being a criminal, hanged. Can we truly trust her to play straight with us? I've seen the way she looks at you, and at the rest of us. She has no love for the chantry."

"I do not need her to love us," Dee replied, "I just need her to be willing to help us."

"But why?" Charter asked, "This…this _person_ is clearly a maleficar! How else can you explain the unnatural power that we have seen?"

Dee thought about that, it was true, what they had experienced, what had happened could be called unnatural. In spite of that, she could not deny that the mage might have her uses. After all, had Sister Leliana and her warden friends not allied with a maleficar? Had they not fought with a Qunari soldier and a crow assassin?

Had they not allied with such people, would the Blight have ended?

Plus, although her personal experience with mages was limited, she had spent time with one that could also have been called the result of "unnatural power." She had met her mentor's friend Wynne several times. The old woman had explained what had happened to her during the Blight, a fate that Leliana had confirmed. Any Templar, had they known about what happened to the old mage, might have tried to see her destroyed for accepting the aid of…unnatural forces.

Yet, the old woman had endured, and not only that, but aided the wardens against the Blight. Was what happened to Andreas any different? Perhaps, but just because the chantry did not fully accept something, did not mean that it should be condemned outright, not in times such as these.

No, Dee was willing to give the mage a chance, especially if she was powerful enough to resurrect herself.

Though, According to Andreas, it had not been true resurrection, not really.

The mage had tried to explain, more to convince Rafe that she was the person he had known rather than the chantry agents that they now travelled with.

According to Andreas, she had been born into a very powerful magical bloodline. Her mother had survived for centuries through the manipulation of, what she called: essence transfer. The sorceress had managed to live age after age, but taking over the bodies of her children, taking their youth and power for herself, but that had not always been the case, sometimes a child was not readily available, and when that happened, it became necessary to place a piece of that essence inside a magical talisman, a talisman that, when used with the right spell, could restore the person to life, if his or her physical body was destroyed.

The mage admitted that she had sought out the means of doing just that. She had tracked down one of her sisters in Orlais, one who had managed to gain position of their mother's grimoire, her book of spells.

That sister had aided Andreas, helped her create the amulet, and instructed her on its use. The amulet was good for only one use, but that would be enough to help the mage survive the many enemies that sought her end.

What the mage had not counted on was that he amulet would change her physical form. She had expected to come back as the man she had been before…

…Being reborn as a woman…that had not been planned.

Dee tried to look at this problem the way that Reaper would have. Surely the paladin would have been able to make sense of all this. She didn't doubt that his knee jerk reaction would be to slay Andreas, on the spot, however, given time to think, and with Dee's counsel, she believed that he would reach the same conclusion she had.

Right now, the chantry had very few magical allies. Despite Sister Leliana and the Divine's aid in the White Spire, the former Circles had fled, and now sought to end the Templar problem their way. Dee did not blame them, but that did not mean that she felt that the mages needed to be brought back into the fold just as much as the Templars needed to be.

For that, she needed people who could move about the mages without fear, who would be trusted. This of course meant, recruiting another mage, one not tied to the Circles.

Andreas would be perfect for that role, provided Dee could convince her to help.

Charter did not entirely agree, but had no better idea.

She agreed to help Dee with her plan, or if things went badly, protect her from the consequences of her decision.

Dee was grateful for the former, and hoped that the latter would prove unnecessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, that was another of Leliana's lessons.

It was a lesson that Dee had taken to heart.

As for the mage herself, Charter had done her best to describe her, Dee told her to leave nothing out, and even the smallest detail might help in bringing the mage into their service.

Charter described the mage as an attractive young woman, possibly in her late twenties or early thirties, though if the whole essence thing was true, the mage could be a lot older. Though ragged, the robes she wore were of fine make, though they did not truly fit her, since they had clearly been designed for a man. She spoke eloquently, suggesting she had been educated, and her accent was pure Fereldan.

Then there were her eyes, Charter made a point to mention them. She said it looked as if the woman's eyes could glow in the dark, an icy blue shine that almost seem to draw you into them. Whether that was true, or simply something that Charter had imagined, Dee could not say, though the agent was not known for her flights of fancy.

Rafe had mentioned that the mage had been a privateer in her previous life. That she had served Ferelden during the Blight in that fashion. Patriotism might be enough to sway the mage then, but most privateers were more about coin than king and country.

Dee was willing to use both, if that is what it took.

"While we're talking," she said to Charter, "I want you to watch our guest closely, I will have questions after we're done, perhaps I will be able to gage if she is lying to us."

"And if she tries to enslave you with her magic?"

"Then you know what to do," Dee said with a shrug, "And, I'm sure you will have your: 'I told you so,' ready."

"I would," the elf agreed, "Though I hope I don't have to use it."

"So Do I, my friend," Dee agreed.

"So do I."

Dee could still feel the tension in the woman's arm.

"We're just going to speak with her," she reminded the agent.

"All she can do is say 'no.'"

IOI

"You must be joking."

Dee shifted slightly, the lumpy bed was not the most comfortable place she had ever sat, but that was not why she was fidgeting.

This conversation was not going the way she expected it to.

"I don't have the luxury of joking, master mage," she said, "Time is of the essence, and right now, neither you, nor I, have time for revels."

She heard the mage snort, whether in amusement or disdain, Dee could not tell. She was usually pretty good at reading people, either by the tone of their voice, or how close they seemed to come to her as she spoke. When someone was relaxed that usually chose to keep their distance.

The mage remained, enigmatic to say the least. This was one of the few times that Dee wished she still had use of her eyes.

The expression on the mage's face would have yielded much, alas, she could not do that.

She would just have to rely on her other senses, and her wits.

Hopefully they would not fail her.

The mage snorted again, she thought she might have even heard a laugh as well. Amusement, she thought, was far better than a cold refusal.

It was an opening, at least, the chance of one.

She needed to make sure that that chance was not wasted.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, sister," the mage said haughtily, "I've never been a lover of the chantry."

"We are not asking for your love," she said, "Merely your eyes and ears from time to time. The chantry has precious few allies right now…"

She smiled slightly.

"It would be nice if we could count you among them."

"And you think it would be that easy?" the mage inquired, hostility dripping from her words like venom. "You think I would forget what the last fifteen years of my life was like. Running from your tin soldiers, always on the move, always hiding what I was."

"I cannot undo the past," she said bowing her head slightly, "If you have suffered, if your loved ones have suffered I'm sorry, but this is not about the past, this is about saving the future."

"Your future," the mage spat.

"Our future," Dee replied, "All of ours, which is in jeopardy if we chose to do nothing."

"And what if I decide to do nothing," Andreas sneered, "What if I choose to just sit back and watch the chantry implode. Watch your pet Templars and circle-pet mages tear the whole sorry mess down, what then?"

"Then you will likely end up falling with the rest of us," she answered, "If the Templars win, what chances will a free mage have in the world they build? How long will anyone with magical talent survive if the Knight-Commanders have their way, with no chantry to temper their ambitions they will run wild, doing Andraste knows what. If the mages win, their factions will tear all of Thedas apart. How long until Loyalists and Libertarians are at each other's throats. Which side will the Aequitarians fall on? What will happen when kings and lords who are loyal to the faith decide to intervene, to try to stop the madness, bringing more war and destruction?"

Dee shook her head.

"And when all is said and done, when Thedas has exhausted itself fighting, tearing itself apart. Either or the Tevinter or the Qunari will likely smell blood and come for us all, eager to gain new resources for their own wars.."

The blind sister frowned.

"I'm told you have done some sailing in your time. Would you welcome a Qunari invasion force to our shores, do you know what they do to the people they conquer?"

The mage said nothing, her silence was telling at least.

It appeared she was considering what Dee had said, whether she accepted it or not, remained to be seen.

"Why me?" the mage asked, "Why not find some loyalist to spread your words?"

"Because an apostate would work better," Dee answered, "There is so much tension between the mage fraternities. Aequitarians look down on libertarians; they think them radicals that they go too far. Libertarians look down on Aequitarians; they think they don't go far enough. Both sides see the loyalists as cowards or sheep. Lucrosians only want to make money…"

"So the mages are divided," Andreas said, "I still don't see why you need me."

"We need someone like you because you are outside those politics. Rafe said you were an officer on board your ship, you know how to lead. The Aequitarians will respect that. The Libertarians will respect your willingness to fight. The lucrosians will respect your desire to profit from what is going on, and the loyalists will listen because you speak for the representatives of the chantry."

"Hm," the mage said thoughtfully, "Tis an interesting way to look at things to be sure," she agreed, "I can see how someone of my… _stature_ **could** help you. I can see why you would want this, but why should I help you, beyond me helping preserve your precious peace, what is in it for me?"

"Beyond your freedom," Charter asked.

Dee interrupted before the mage could make some acidic reply.

"There is a great opportunity for profit here," she said, "And not just simply wealth either."

When the mage spoke again, her voice sounded more…silky, Dee could almost hear the curiosity in her voice.

"I'm listening," she said.

Dee resisted the urge to smile.

In this, she was on more stable ground.

She found herself drawing on her memories of her mother. How her voice would change when she was trying to ensnare a new client, insure their investment.

Sister Daelle might have been a loyal daughter of the chantry, but that did not mean she had forgotten where she had come from.

She was still a merchant's daughter after all.

She knew all about self-interest.

"You clearly do not look fondly on the circle. I do not blame you. Too many these days hear the word Circle and think of prison. When this is over, when the chantry restores order, we will not simply be able to go back to the way things were before. Templars, Circles, we will need to find a new way of managing magic and its practitioners."

"The Divine will need advisors, people who understand the magical arts. Having the ear of the Divine could lead to all kind of opportunities."

"Uh huh," the mage responded, Dee was not sure, but it sounded like the mage was listening, perhaps even considering her offer. She might even be a little intrigued by it.

"Keep talking," she said.

"This could be a fresh start for you, master mage," she said, "I life free of mistakes of the past."

"And what about my past, sister," Andreas said, "I don't think your Divine will want to work with someone like me."

"And what past is that," Dee asked, "The person you were, is gone, he was hanged, remember. Whatever sins he committed aren't yours."

Charter coughed; clearly she did not like the direction this conversation was taking. Still, Dee pushed on.

Right now, the chantry had no way into the mage rebellion.

Sitting before her, this woman, was her way in. She was the chantry's way in.

All Dee had to do; was convince her to say, yes.

"You have a chance at a fresh start," she added, "Let the mage Andreas die, and be reborn into your new life. Why should you repeat the sins of the past?"

Again the mage snorted, but his time, it sounded more amused than anything else.

"A new life you say?" she purred.

"Why not? I know what it is like to lose everything, to wake up and realize everything you ever knew is gone."

"Personal experience?" the mage said.

"Yes," Dee answered, her hands going to her face, "I was not always a sister, you see, and I was not always blind."

"I see," Andreas said, "I could do what you ask, but I would ask for something more."

Charter huffed, but once again Dee cut the agent off. She was almost there, she could feel it.

The mage was so close now.

"What do you want?" the sister asked.

Andreas chuckled.

"Revenge," she hissed, "I lost so much to the Templars over the years, so very much. If I was to give you what you want, I would want some assurance."

When the mage spoke again, her voice was cold as ice.

"The Templar order, the chantry is going to destroy them, yes? Not forgive, not try to return to the fold, but to wipe them out, every last officer, knight, and squire, wiped from the face of Thedas."

Sister Daelle frowned. She should have expected this, should have planned for it. If the Divine did have a chance to bring the order back into the fold…?

Then she thought of Reaper, of the knight who tried to assassinate him. She thought of all the Templars they had hanged during their journeys throughout Thedas.

Was the order worth saving?

She could not say for sure.

"It may come to that," she agreed, "I don't see the knight-commanders willing to give up the power they now wield. It may become necessary to deal with the Templar leadership permanently."

"That is not saying yes to my request," the mage said.

"It is not, but it is an attempt at compromise," she said, "You will no doubt get your chance at revenge, ser mage, but I cannot speak for the chantry on your request. You wish to have more sway with what happens with the Templars when all is said and done; then help us. The Divine would be more than willing to listen to a trusted ally, and consider what she has to say."

The mage chuckled, whether it was the thought of her convincing the Divine to deal with the Templars, or the idea of her being a trusted ally, Dee was not sure.

"Tis said," the mage began, "That a compromise is solution that leaves neither side totally happy."

"I've heard this as well," Dee agreed, "But it is also a start, the first step towards greater things."

Dee smiled.

"Shall we take that first step together?"

The mage paused, perhaps considering what had been said.

When she spoke, her voice sounded amused.

"Perhaps you are right, sister," she said, "Perhaps, I do need a new beginning. Andreas had enemies, even among his fellow mages. Now…those enemies will likely not even recognize me, or should I say him. They may even want to help the poor innocent mage girl who now seeks to speak with them."

"Are you innocent," Dee asked.

"If this is truly a fresh start for me, then…sure," the mage reached out and took her hand.

"Andreas is dead," she said, "He was hanged for his crimes. I will need a new name now, I think, something similar, and yet, new."

Dee considered that, it sounded like she had what she wanted.

Though she had to wonder…

…What would Reaper think of all this?

He would want for the chantry to succeed, she thought.

He would consider giving this mage a fresh start a good idea; at least, she thought he would.

"How about…Andrea?" she suggested.

The mage chuckled.

"Andrea," she murmured, "I like it, Andrea Wren, advisor to the Divine on…magical matters. Far better than a simple pirate, wouldn't you say?"

"To say the least," Dee agreed.

Andrea Wren laughed.

"It seems we have a bargain," she purred, as she shook Dee's hand.

Dee tried to feel good about this, about Andrea's second chance. She had faith that this was a good idea, but at the same time…

…She hoped she was not making a mistake.

"So, sister," Andrea said slyly.

"Where do we start?"


	27. One Life

**Chapter 27: One Life**

The fortress of West Hill had never been well maintained. It may have overlooked the waking sea from its rocky hill, but even _that_ strategic value had not saved the once great fort from falling into disrepair.

 _Perhaps it was because the people of Ferelden wished to forget,_ Reaper pondered, _and after everything that happened, who could really blame them?_

It was a place that had known much suffering in the last fifty years. A decade ago the darkspawn had swept over these lands bringing death by the sword and the plague that burned in their blood. Arl Wulfe's children had fallen to that sickness, them and many others, leaving the final fate of West Hill in the hands of a daughter of one of the Arl's bastard brothers; it was now unclear if the line would continue past the current Arl's generation. Thirty years before that, King Maric and his rebel army had been dealt an almost fatal blow here. It was here that the Orlesian usurper destroyed Arl Rendorn of Redcliffe, and nearly ended the rebellion in one swift stroke.

It was only by blind luck, or perhaps, a miracle, that the Fereldans had finally prevailed.

So much tragedy, Reaper thought as he made his way down one of the fortress's drafty corridors. So much pain and loss had left its mark on this place

He could **feel** it; the veil was thin here, very thin. It was no wonder that the locals feared that the old fortress was likely haunted. No doubt the spirits struggled against the weakened veil, seeking entry.

Not a good place for mages to hold up, he thought, surly they must have realized that, the threat of possession…

Then he realized something else.

It was not like the mages had much choice, few people would take them in these days. Arl Wulfe was likely one the few allies they had left among the Ferelden nobility. If not for the circle's aid, the situation here may have become even grimmer than it already was.

Any port in a storm is a welcome one.

The paladin frowned.

Now he would add to the misery of this place. The leader of the mages here needed to die, and he was to be the executioner.

By dawn, another ghost would wander the halls of West Hill.

He and the four others trusted with this mission had arrived separately. He had come disguised as a guard of a trade convoy, while the others had arrived under other covers. Knight-commander Martel had stressed both the need for speed, and the success of this mission.

After Amaranthine, he had needed a win, and, considering recent rumors out of Highever, he needed one more than ever.

Reaper made his way to one of the windows overlooking the courtyard. A light snow had fallen in the night, leaving everything wet and gray. He spotted no less than seven hooded figures in the courtyard. These were the mages of the loyalist fraternity; making themselves useful to those who now shielded them.

A shield that was about to be broken.

When their remaining leader died, and evidence was found linking the people of West Hill to that death…

The situation here would change…drastically.

Reaper frowned slightly, in his head; he knew this was the smart move, militarily. It would finally remove any suspicion from him personally, and give him the prestige he needed to try and save what was left of the order here in Ferelden. The setback in Amaranthine had been bad enough, it had weakened Commander Martel's position, now…after Highever…

…It was unlikely that the man would continue to be in command much longer, far too many now hungered for his spot.

It was Reaper's place, his duty to the Divine, to ensure that he came out on top.

He could save the order from itself, one life is all it would cost, just one life…

It was the smart play, was it not? He thought it was.

Yes, he knew it in his head, but in his heart…well…

He still had doubts about what he was about to do.

 _Put those doubts aside,_ he thought to himself, _what is one life compared to saving the entire Templar order? If I take control, I will be in a position to move this army back into the Divine's service, to restore us to our proper place as servants of the chantry. Amelia may try to sway me away from that path, but in the end, if I'm the leader, it will all fall to me._

I can do this.

I can save the order.

And all it will cost…is a single innocent life…

…is that price not worth it?

Is saving an entire order not worth such a sacrifice?

He wanted to believe that it was. He wanted to believe that, if Dee were here, she would support his decision on this matter.

He **needed** to believe it.

It was the only way he would be able to pull it off.

He stood watch on an old wooden walkway; it ran the length of the courtyard giving him a full view of everyone's comings and goings. He watched the lights shining from the small chantry off in the far left corner, their target was inside, or so their agent had said. The mages' leader was a creature of habit; the target would attend evening prayer in the chantry, and then make a quick circuit of the walls before retiring for the evening.

It was while on the walls that Reaper and his fellow Templars would… _ **deal**_ with the matter, and from there make their way back to Martel's camp. The fortress was so lightly manned it would be at least an hour or so before anyone found the body, and by that time, it would be far too late. The damage would be done between the loyalists and the people of West Hill.

All the Templars would have to do then, was wait for the mages to leave, or if they were lucky, attack the fortress, and when they did…Martel would have his first real victory of this war.

Provided he was still in charge when it happened, far too many people wondered about his ability to command now.

All Reaper had to do was do his part, and he would be in a perfect place to take the role of leader, or so Ser Amelia had said.

"All it takes is a little push," she had said before he had left camp, then had come news from Highever...

Highever had definitely been more than a little push.

Reaper had been on his way here when he first heard of it. After all the problems in Amaranthine, Martel had ordered the guard doubled in the port city, going so far as to draw men away from Highever to reinforce the garrison in Amaranthine. It had seemed the smart move at the time, the nobles of Highever seemed far more open to the Templars, and Teyrn Cousland had not lifted a finger to oppose them. Martel had clearly thought that Highever had been secure.

It seems that he had thought wrong.

Four nights before Reaper left West Hill, a Highever scout had reported to the Knight-Captain in charge of the Highever Garrison that their patrols had spotted a small group of mages moving up the king's road, possibly heading to West Hill. According to the scout, or so the rumor claimed, they wore the robes of senior enchanters, travelled with several slow moving wagons and very little armed escort. Rather than send word to Knight-Commander Martel, the captain had chosen instead to march against the mages himself. No doubt he thought to eliminate any chance of the mages here gaining any news or support from their fellows outside the fortress.

To make sure everything happened as he planned, the captain had taken the bulk of his garrison with him, leaving only a token force to hold their ships and the city.

Reaper only knew all this because the traders he had been travelling with stopped at an inn along the king's road. That and Amelia had rode hard to catch him before he reached his destination, she felt that the paladin needed to know what had happened.

It was not good for the Templar order.

The Highever garrison set an ambush along the road to West Hill, but the mages never came, they sent out riders to search for the mages, but they found nothing. One of those outriders had been the scout from Highever who had informed them of the mages' movement in the first place, and unsurprisingly he had not returned. Angrily, the Commander had marched back to Highever, planning on having words with the scout and the officers over him.

They arrived to find the gates to Highever sealed, and news that their fellows had been expelled from the city.

The report that had led the Templars to leave had been a lie.

Teyrn Cousland had outsmarted them.

The order was no longer welcome in Highever.

Reaper could only imagine how Martel had reacted when he found out. His whole strategy had hinged on holding onto Amaranthine and Highever, and now he had lost one city, and the other was hanging by a thread.

It would not be easy for the order to recover from that loss.

For Amelia, and anyone else who wished to see Martel replaced, this must have seemed like a gift from the Maker himself.

"This is why you **must** succeed," Ser Amelia told him as he waited for the merchant's he was travelling with to push on.

"Your time," she informed him, "Is now."

Reaper nodded, he knew what it meant to seize the moment.

Before she left, Amelia had given him one final bit of advice, she had found out somethings about the other Templars sent on this mission.

Two of the men, Tobias and Vincente were known to be great cronies of Ser Ryam, the Templar that Reaper had… _chastised_ during the war council. Amelia advised extreme caution, and suggested that…perhaps…

It would be better that not all of the men sent out return safely from this mission.

Reaper said nothing, but to be truthful, he was not surprised. If Martel was worried about Reaper, about him seeking to try and supplant him, this West Hill mission would be a perfect opportunity to rid himself of a rival. The paladin had been in similar situations before, during his travels with Dee, several times he had found himself on mission with those that wished to do him harm.

He had survived those missions, one or two with some difficulty, but he had survived.

For warned was for armed.

Again Amelia kissed him, before returning to camp. He had accepted the kiss, but that had not made him any less wary. This could still be a trap or a test. Martel could be using the woman to get him to eliminate several of his rival's cronies, or this could all be a set up to get rid of him.

Despite her claims of loyalty, Reaper had not dropped his guard around the lady Templar. In other world, he might have been charmed by her affections once, but not here.

It would take more than a simple kiss or the promise of…other pleasures to turn him head.

Seduction was a weapon too, and he had done his best to armor himself against Amelia's.

His heart was not so easily swayed, not when another held such a high place within it.

He tried not to think about Dee, not now. He hardened his heart, as he had done on other missions.

Chantry services would be ending soon.

Their quarry was about to be on the move.

He thought he spotted two of his fellows approaching the walkway.

When the five of them were together they would move.

Again his conscience tried to rebel against this choice, the thought of killing an innocent. He did his best to ignore it. One life, that is all it would take, one life and he would be in a position to return the Templars under his command to the faith.

It was for the chantry, he told himself.

It was for the faith.

He nodded grimly.

That is what mattered, the faith.

He would do what was best of it, no matter the cost…

He sighed.

Whatever it took.

IOI

When they were finally together, the five hunters went after their prey.

The mage did as their source suggested, and made for the wall. Reaper and the others followed closely, but not too close.

There was still time yet, they needed to make sure no one was around when they did the deed.

Tobias and Vincente wanted to move now, but Reaper and Barabbas over ruled them.

They would make their move, when the coast was clear.

Reaper regarded his fellows, his former brothers in the faith. Tobias and Vincente were from the Ferelden Templars and had allied quickly enough with Ser Ryam when he was made a member of the war council.

Tobias seemed like any other knight in the order, not overly handsome with pox scars on his cheeks. He was soft spoken and polite when spoken to. Vincente was the polar opposite, boisterous and vocal about his hatred for mages. He claimed that he had killed twelve robes before the war and another six since it had begun.

Reaper listened to each one of his stories, and all the while imagined a rope around the arrogant young man's neck. Perhaps he believed no one would remember his confession about killing mages before the war.

Reaper intended not to forget.

Ser Barabbas was from the Free Marches, before the war he had been a mage hunter out of Starkhaven. He saw what was about to happen as neither good nor bad, merely another part of his duty.

Reaper wished he had Barabbas' certainty.

Their fifth was a young recruit named Pate, an over eager boy who still seemed to think this was all some grand adventure. He had only just received his first draft of lyrium before they had left camp. The recruit might have been young, but he showed a special skill in using the Templar disciplines, and his faith in what they were doing was without question. In spite of that, Reaper had not wanted him along; he was too green, and far too eager, especially for such ugly work. Martel had not listened to the paladin's suggestion; the Knight-Commander wanted the new recruits to get their feet wet as soon as possible.

Such a simple task would be a good way to start the boy's seasoning.

As Reaper moved forward he tried to be aware of where Tobias and Vincente were, just in case. He had no desire to get a knife in the back when they engaged the mage. He might have looked two the other two for aid, but Barabbas was a wild card, and Pate too inexperienced.

No, Reaper realized that he needed to stay wary of everyone.

As they closed the gap, the noises of the fortress began to drift away. Despite the light of the occasional torch, no one else was up here but their quarry and them. The clouds above spit the occasional snowflake as they approached their target.

Reaper could just make out the guard trusted to watch this section of the wall, he had just moved past where the mage had stopped, and would not make another circuit for another hour, plenty of time for them to complete their work.

Had the fort had a large garrison it would not have been so easy, but West Hill was far from the strategic outpost it had once been.

The mage had stopped and now stood looking up at the clouded sky. Reaper had still not gotten a chance to see the mage's face, but did that really matter?

One life, he thought.

Just one and the order might just be saved.

He took a deep breath and centered himself.

Barabbas moved forward while Vincente and Tobias fell back, Pate stayed close to the Reaper, waiting for the paladin to give the signal.

Reaper tried not to think about Ser Ryam's cronies at his back.

They drew closer to the mage, their daggers hidden beneath their cloaks. They moved silently, like shadows, no one should have been able to hear them, especially not their quarry.

Yet, they had not been quiet enough it seemed.

The mage spoke to them, startling even Reaper.

"There will be a place at the Maker's side for me," the mage said in a soft voice.

"Can you say the same?"

Reaper froze. Either the mage leader had a very high voice, or…

He blinked.

The Enchanter was woman!

He probably should not have been surprised.

Magic cared little about gender.

The mage sighed.

"You must be Templars, yes?" she sighed, "I should have known.

The hooded mage shook her head.

"I knew my Ogilvy's death was no accident."

"It wasn't," Ser Barabbas admitted, "And neither will yours be."

Reaper thought that mage would turn then, that she would call on her magic to defend herself, or perhaps she would cry out for help.

The enchanter did neither; she just stood there, her back to them. She showed no sign of fear or alarm.

She seemed resolved, accepting.

It was not the reaction the paladin had expected, or wanted.

He would have preferred her to try to fight; then, perhaps, this would at least feel a little less like a cold blooded murder.

He swallowed hard.

That is what this was; wasn't it?

Not the elimination of a simple military objective, but murder.

He was about to become a murderer.

Could he live with that?

The other Templars fanned out surrounding her; they had not drawn their blades yet.

"Why," she asked them.

"Why kill Ogilvy?" she demanded.

"Why kill me?!"

He did not know who this Ogilvy was; he guessed it had been her partner, the other leader of this group of mages, a friend, perhaps, maybe even a lover.

The one who had already been dealt with, he thought.

Though he had played no part in the other mage's death, he felt a twinge of guilt.

It would have been better had the mage attacked.

Then, at least he would not feel so…so…

…he was not sure how he felt.

His four allies watched their prey closely. Vincente and Tobias seemed to be enjoying this, anticipating the kill to come. Barabbas was grim, and resolved. Pate looked back and forth between his fellows, waiting for a signal from his more seasoned comrades.

A signal that would come soon/

"We have a war to win," Vincente chortled, he looked so eager to spring forward, like a lion ready jump on some running prey animal.

"We can allow the mages to find no safe haven," Barabbas added, "You can understand that, yes?"

"I can," the mage admitted, "After Ogilvy died; I knew it was only a matter of time."

The mage turned and lowered her hood.

Reaper's breath caught in his throat.

He had been prepared for a funny little man with a long white beard.

That was not the person that stood before him.

She was older than him, he thought, thirty five perhaps, maybe forty, but that did not take away from the woman standing there. Her features were fine, large brown eyes with a cute rounded nose, and slender mouth. Though her auburn braided hair was streaked with silver her features had not yet surrendered to age. The only wrinkles he saw were laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. She would have had a beautiful smile, he thought, but from the redness of her eyes, and dark bags beneath them it was clear that this woman had known no rest recently.

Yet, despite what she was likely feeling, the mage gave them a triumphant smile.

"I'm afraid you have failed gentlemen," she informed them.

"Not likely, Robe," Vincente sneered, "First you, then the rest of your rabble."

"And which rabble might that be?" she asked them.

Reaper glanced at Barabbas, the hunter's eyes narrowed; this was not going as he expected either.

"Cut off the head, and the body dies," he said, "When you fall your followers will be leaderless."

"Unless they have been prepared for that," she said, still smiling, "Of course there was a far easier way to make sure that you would not get us all so easily.

She met their eyes in turn, saw the mix of hate and anger in the eyes of her would-be killers. When it was Reaper's turn she blinked, perhaps surprised by the lack of hostility in them.

"You may kill me," she said, "But you will not get my people," she gave them a triumphant smirk.

"I'm the only mage here," she informed them, there is no one left here to mourn or avenge me."

She glared at Ser Vincente, by far the most hostile of those that had come for her.

"You made this trip for **nothing."**

Ser Tobias blinked.

Ser Vincente snarled.

Pate glanced between the mage and his fellows.

"You are lying," Tobias said.

"I'm beyond lying," the mage said, "I will not soil my soul with such deceptions, not here, not as I go to face my Maker's judgment."

Reaper blinked, he reached out with his Templar senses, seeking to feel the magic that a fortress filled with magi should have been giving off.

His eye narrowed.

He felt nothing; there were no mages in West Hill, except for the woman standing before them.

"How," Reaper asked her.

She met his eyes, an impish sparkle in her eyes.

"A few at time, they left disguised as guardsman on patrol, or messengers sent out on errands. As for the robed men and women in the courtyard, you would be surprised how far people will go to help those they consider friends. Crofters, fishermen, scullions, all willing to dress as my fellows, so that anyone watching West Hill would think me and mine were all still here."

She grinned triumphantly.

"I'm a loyal daughter of the chantry," she said, "A loyal member of the circle, but that does not mean that I'm foolish. When my man was killed I knew that someone was coming for us. I just hope that some of our more militaristic brothers and sisters were wrong. I did not want to believe a Templar, a warrior of the Maker, would ever use such tactics."

She shook her head.

"I guess I was wrong."

Reaper digested what he had just heard, what it had meant.

They had made this journey for nothing.

Amaranthine, Highever, and now West Hill…Knight-Commander Martel had been outmaneuvered.

Whatever plan the Templar leader had had was now moot.

The more ambitious of his allies would not forgive this oversight.

Martel's time in command would end. He…

Tobias snarled like an enraged animal. The normally placid Templar lunged forward; he struck the woman across the face. She went down with barely a cry.

The paladin stood there, shell shocked. He could not believe what he had just seen.

"Harlot," he spat, "Mage-bitch, treasonous whore, do…do you realize what you have done?!"

The mage spat blood, and grinned up at him.

"I bought the safety of my friends with my life. Yes, I understand _exactly_ what I have done."

Reaper glanced over at Pate, the boy's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

"Martel is going to kill us for this," he gasped.

Vincente's eyes went wide with a mix of horror and rage, clearly being outmaneuvered did not appeal to him.

"You've ruined everything!" he cried, "You are going to die for this whore, oh yes…"

He grinned savagely.

"You are going to die ugly."

"All you can do is kill me," the enchanter said, "All you can do is send me to be with my love, why should I fear that?"

Tobias kicked her hard, the mage cried out in pain.

The man's eyes blazed with hate.

Reaper realized then that whatever mask the man had worn for so long was now gone.

Tobias was worse than Vincente…way…way worse.

"You're going to die, whore," he promised, "but not all at once."

He looked like a hungry predator. His eyes flashing with barely contained rage and madness.

"You will beg for death before the end. You will beg…"

Reaper drew his sword, the flames exploding to life as it left its sheath.

He had heard enough, more than enough!

He brought the blade around and down on his target.

Tobias' head came away and flew over the wall.

His body fell with barely a noise.

It had all happened so fast. Reaper turned to face Vincente and Barabbas.

He had made his choice.

Was a single innocent life worth the entire order?

No it wasn't., he realized, not when people like Tobias call themselves Templars. They…

"TRAITOR!"

Pate lunged, his dagger aimed for the spot between the armor plates beneath the paladin's cloak.

Reaper did not hesitate.

He threw an elbow into the recruit's face, crushing his nose, and likely shattering teeth.

Reaper grabbed the dazed warrior.

"I think your friend might need his head, recruit" he hissed, "Go fetch it!"

He flung the boy over the edge of the wall; Pate fell with a straggled cry, all but drowned out by the wind.

Yet, reaper did not have time to catch his breath.

Barabbas and Vincente were on him. Blades flashing, curses on their lips.

The mage hunter was dangerous enough, but in a sword fight Reaper could hold his own. Ser Vincente was another matter, the man got in close with his dagger."

Reaper tried to call on the fires in his blood to burn the assassin, but it was all he could do to hold his own against Barabbas.

Vincente's blade punched into Reaper's side.

The paladin cried out in pain.

Vincente grinned up at him.

"Ryam warned us about you, freak," he snarled, "Martel should have hanged you when he had the chance!"

 _Yes he should have,_ Reaper agreed.

 _Too bad you will not be around to inform him._

As Vincente pulled back for another stab, Reaper danced around him and seized him by the neck. The Templar tried to slash his way free, but the paladin had control of his dagger now.

He flung the man at Ser Barabbas, trying to send the two sprawling.

The mage hunter did not fall for the trick. He side stepped, and let his fellow fall, and then he was back on the attack battering Reaper's defenses.

It was all the paladin could do to keep his blade up, the pain in his side was intense, hotter than the fires that burned within him.

Fires he feared were about to go out.

Both men disengaged they stared at each other taking the measure of one another.

"You chose poorly, brother," Barabbas said; his voice tinged with regret.

Reaper shrugged.

"My life for an innocent," he said matter-of-factly.

"Fair trade."

Barabbas moved into finish him.

He did not get the chance.

Two crossbow bolts slammed into him, one in the back one in the throat.

The mage hunter blinked and coughed.

He stared into Reaper's eyes, a look of acceptance on his face.

Ser Barabbas took a step back and fell off the walkway.

He died without a sound.

Reaper fell to his knees, he reached down to the wound; his hand came up coated in crimson.

Damn, he thought.

I'm sorry, Dee.

"I YIELD!" he heard Ser Vincente shout, his voice thick with fear and panic. The man threw down his daggers with a clatter, "I YIELD! DON"T SHOOT! I YIELD!"

Two bolts slammed into his chest, they struck with such a force they easily breached his breast plate.

Vincente sobbed, and fell over gurgling.

Reaper almost laughed.

 _I guess they did not hear you, brother_ , he thought dryly.

 _Too bad._

He slumped down to the walkway, feeling the life pumping out of him. He should have been frightened, but surprisingly, he felt kind of peaceful, like he was slipping into a warm bath, slipping away. He felt hands on his shoulder, turning him on his back. He found himself looking up into the eyes of the enchanter, she was shouting for aid through blood lips, her nose leaking red.

"It's okay," Reaper wanted to tell her, "I'm okay dying here."

He sighed.

 _To die saving an innocent life, that was worth more than a thousand corrupted Templar orders._

He smiled.

He was not sure, but he could almost see, Dee. His partner was looking upon him with that gentle smile of hers, a look of pride in her eyes.

He was grateful for that, for the chance to see her…one last time.

He had held his honor, and his faith. Ser Amelia, the promise of power had almost made him forget, but here, at the end, he had remembered.

He was grateful for that.

 _One innocent life,_ he thought as he lost consciousness.

 _Fair Trade._


	28. The Mage

**Chapter 28: The Mage**

As always…he returned to the flames.

As the paladin floated between life and death, the world burned around him. He could not say for certain if this was a dream or a vision. He did not believe he was dead, not yet. He didn't think the dead could feel, and he still could. The pain in his side remained, but had gone from sharp stabbing agony, to a dull ache.

Then again, perhaps he was dead; he remembered collapsing on that walkway in West Hill.

 _Is that normal_ , he wondered, _do the dead feel pain?_

" _You are not dead my friend," a familiar voice answered, "not yet."_

The voice did not surprise him; it had been with him since his first return from the flames in the temple.

He smiled.

"Guardian?"

" _Your task is not yet done,"_ the voice continued, _"The faithful still suffer, you must find a way to help them, bring them back to our prophet, and their promise."_

Reaper nodded, he thought that was what he was doing. When he tried to save the Templars from themselves, but, now that he had time to think, to separate himself from that goal, he realized that he had been wrong.

The Templars were **not** the faithful; not truly, their desire for power, for independence had blinded them from their role. What the order sought now had nothing to do with faith or belief.

 _I've failed you, Guardian,_ the Paladin thought; _I submitted to desire, a lust for power, and let it lead me astray, and then lied to myself, to justify my actions._

Again the ancient knight did not respond, he offered no condemnation, or forgiveness.

 _Guardian?_

Reaper sighed.

Perhaps he no longer deserved the Maker's grace?

" _To err is to be human, my friend,"_ the knight responded, _"all who walk the path stumble, they get lost, and they fall. The true test is finding one's way back, staying true to Andraste, and our Maker."_

He could almost see a face starting to form in the flames, yet, it was not the guardian; it was someone else, someone more precious to the paladin than he liked to admit.

" _The first step to finding forgiveness, and redemption, is to ask,"_ the guardian's voice said, " _Forgive those you have wronged, and forgive yourself."_

The face in the flames seemed to smile at him, a soft gentle smile that had he seen it in the real world, he would have blushed.

 _I'm sorry, Dee. I…I have not even tried to make it back to you._

 _I'm so sorry._

The woman's eyes appeared eyes that glowed like to suns. The light hurt, but Reaper did not look away.

Was this Dee's face or something else?

Was Andraste looking upon him now? If so, he felt more than unworthy.

Once again he heard a voice, but not the guardian's this time, a woman's voice, both familiar and strange.

"Wake up, Reaper," it said.

"Dee?"

"Wake up."

IOI

Reaper returned to the world with a shudder, the dull ache in his side remained, that and the realization that his wrists were bound to his side, he could not raise his arms.

Yet, he did not struggle; he did not do anything yet. He did not even open his eyes. He was not alone here, he could hear two voices conversing; they did not yet realize that he was awake.

Considering what he was hearing, perhaps that was a good thing.

"He is guilty of conspiracy, and attempted murder," a gruff commanding voice said, "He snuck into my home, and attempted to slay a guest under my roof."

The man with the hard voice snorted.

"He should be tried and hanged like any other criminal, regardless of what he did in your defense."

"He saved my life, Your Grace." A second, gentler, more feminine, voice reminded the other, "He fought off four men and nearly died in the attempt. Are those the actions of a criminal?"

Reaper pursed his lips; he thought he now knew who he was hearing. The man could only be Arl Wulfe, the ruler of West Hill, and the woman, well, that was likely the mage he had saved.

At least I have an advocate, he thought, which was good considering what the Arl was saying.

If not for the mage, he might have awoken in an interrogation chamber, being forced awake by having a bucket of cold water poured upon him, or something worse.

When it came to nobles, he thought to himself, they always seemed to have something worse in mind when it came to interrogation.

"You would not have needed to be saved if those men had not come here," the Arl reminded her, "Those men were his companions, and if anything he is guilty by association alone. He should be interrogated to make sure he has no more allies hidden within these walls, and then hung as an example to others who would violate my hospitality."

"You have a right to be angry, Your Grace," the woman said with a sigh, "But I would not be so quick to judge. Let us wait until this man awakens, hear what he has to say, before we start trying to rip answers from him."

There was a brief pause then, Reaper guessed that the Arl was considering what the mage had said, perhaps even evaluating her motives.

"I must say that your restraint in this matter surprises me, Enchanter. This man's comrades murdered Ogilvy after all. I would think that you would wish to see him punished for that."

Again a pause, a very pregnant pause, he did not know who the man they were discussing was, but if their encounter with the mage told him anything, it was that the dead man they were talking about had not been without friends and allies. Friends and allies that wished to see someone punished for his death.

Reaper had to find a way now not to be that one.

"Did this man kill Ogilvy with his sword?" the woman asked, "Did anyone see him attack him? No, Your Grace, my Ogilvy died from poison, that is not the way of a man who would battle four foes to save the life of a stranger."

"So what, so the man could not bring himself to finish the job he came here for," The Arl said gruffly, "Just because a man loses his nerve and becomes craven does not excuse what he has done in the past."

The mage laughed lightly.

"If you had seen _**this**_ man fight, you would know beyond a doubt that he is not craven," she said, "No, I suspect he has other motives, ones I intend to explore, when he awakens of course."

"He is still _**my**_ prisoner," the Arl reminded her.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and of hushed voices. It appeared the two had stepped away, to continue their conversation in private.

The paladin tried to listen, but he could only catch snippets of what was being said, and still he kept his eyes closed, evaluating what he was hearing.

He needed to be very careful here, he realized, the Arl was clearly looking for any excuse to see him punished for what the Templars' agents had done.

This was one time that his quickness with a sword would not save him. He needed to be smart, be honest, but at the same time spin it in a way that did not make him look like either an enemy or a fool.

He breathed slowly through his nose, trying not to draw attention, laying here in darkness with only conversations of others to tell him what was going on, made him have even more sympathy for Dee. He had often wondered what it was like, to spend so many years in the dark, forced to use her other senses to get the information that she needed.

Trying to do the same now, made him realize just how difficult such a task was, and served as a reminder of just how strong she truly was.

He could almost see her in his mind's eye, and now, bereft of any Templar distractions, once again felt the pain and fear of her loss.

He wished that Dee were here, she always seemed to know the right words to charm a resistant noble, and convince them to go where the paladin needed them to go.

Thinking about his partner, still not knowing if she was alive or dead, was a pain almost as sharp as the blade that he had been stuck with.

"Out of the question," the Arl growled.

Reaper held his breath, forcing his mind to quiet, and to listen more closely.

"…take responsibility," he heard the mage say.

"…Too dangerous," the Arl replied, "It this goes…"

"…It is my choice…if something goes…you will be able to do as you like, but for now, please…"

'Enchanter, think of…"

"…Your Grace, please…trust me."

The Arl snorted loudly, like some hunting dog that had lost the scent of his prey.

"Very well," he said, "He is yours, but if you are wrong about this…"

"I understand," the woman replied, "I'll do what I must."

Again he heard the sound of heavy boot steps and the sound of a door closing. Reaper thought himself alone for a few moments, but then heard a sigh close to his bed.

It seems that the mage had not followed the Arl out; she now stood at his side.

He waited, unsure of what to do next.

He waited.

He could imagine the woman standing over him, watching him, every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to open his eyes, to sit up, to do something, but still, he held back.

The woman had not tried to harm him yet, and if that had been her intent, she would have simply said nothing and let the Arl do what he pleased. No there was something else going on.

He was willing to wait, and find out exactly what it was.

He felt fingers on his face, the touch was gentle, had he been unconscious he likely would have felt nothing, they gently tilted his head to the side.

"Where did you get these, I wonder?" the mage mused softly, studying his scars.

Not wishing to startle her he waited until her fingers moved away from his face. He knew that he could not simply lay here forever. The Arl's patience would wear thin if he did.

"From a dagger," he sighed, opening his eyes.

He regarded his advocate for the first time since that time on the walkway. The look on her pretty face suggested that she might have known that he had been awake far longer than he had let on.

"Was it in battle?" she inquired.

Reaper smiled grimly.

"It was an assassination attempt, I lived; the other man didn't."

"Not surprising," she said dryly. She reached out and took his hand; her fingers were both warm and soft.

"Hello again," she said with a gentle smile, "Welcome back."

He grunted and tried to sit up. He was laying in what appeared to be some type of healing room, his wrists bound to the cot on which he lay.

The pain in his side flared as he tried to regain his feet.

"Easy," the mage cautioned, gently pushing him back,

Reaper did not try to resist. He could have tried to burn the bindings away, but that would have done little to avail himself to his captors. No…

It was best to follow their lead, for now.

"I've healed your wounds," the mage informed him, "But the pain will last a bit longer, the blade cut far deeper than I thought, you nearly bled to death."

He nodded grimly, remembering the feeling of slipping away, of the blade shoved between the plates of his armor.

"The men who were with me," he asked, "Do any of them still live?"

The woman shook her head, no.

"The one who tried to yield on the battlements died yesterday. The Arl had him for questioning while I saw to your wounds. I can't really say that I'm sorry he did not survive the interrogation."

Reaper shrugged. Of the four he had fought, he only felt sorry for having slain the boy, Pate, he might have been a good servant of the chantry one day, had he been given the chance…

…Alas, he had chosen his side, and had paid the price for doing so.

In the candle light, he finally got a good look at his rescuer. Despite the silver in her hair, and the clear pain of loss and mourning, she did not seem as threatening as Martel and his lieutenants believed her to be. Though, if what she had told them was true, she was far more cunning than the Templars had given her credit for as well. She had rightly deduced the Knight-Commander's first move, and saved the lives of many of her fellows.

Reaper frowned.

He was not sure if she should be happy about that or not? How many of those previously neutral mages would now join the rebellion? Would their leaving here be for the better of Thedas, or worse?

It was too late for regrets about that now, he thought, what was done was done. Killing this woman would have done little to change that, she had already sent her charges away by the time they had arrived.

Now it fell to him to make the best of this situation, if he could.

The mage fussed over his bandaged waist fingers gently probed where the injury had been. The Arl's men had stripped him of his shirt and cloak, and he lay bare-chested as the mage examined his injuries.

He might have been wrong, but he thought he saw a bit of pink in those cheeks, a blush? He could say for sure.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She smiled down at him.

"Both for saving my life," he added, "and for speaking with the Arl on my behalf, I'm in your debt."

"Think nothing of it, and do not worry so about dear Wulfe. The Arl of West Hill is a good man," she said, "A bit gruff, but a good and pious soul. He could have abandoned the Maker after all the loses he suffered during the Blight, but instead chose to rededicate himself to his people and those who seek out his help."

The mage smiled.

"People could do well to follow the Arl's example; he is a pillar of good Andrastian charity."

Reaper sighed and nodded.

"He did not seem so charitable just now," the paladin said.

"He is also protective of his friends," she reminded him.

"Like the mage that was poisoned," Reaper said.

The woman winced.

"Yes," she agreed, her manner a bit cooler, "Ogilvy and I were his friends, and His Grace took my love's death very seriously."

Reaper cursed himself.

That was a stupid move on his part, mentioning the dead mage, stupid!

"I'm sorry," he said, "I could have phrased my question better, I could have been more sensitive to your loss."

The mage shrugged.

"I accept your apology," she said, "Though I suppose I shouldn't be so cold with you, after all, you did save my life."

The mage managed a weak smile.

"I'm Kessella, by the way," she said, "Enchanter Kessella Kinloch of the Ferelden Circle."

"I am called, Reaper," he informed her.

"Reaper?" she said, her brow furrowing slightly, "Sounds fearsome."

"It is the name the Most Holy gave me when I first entered her service," he said, he saw no reason to mention Sister Leliana right now, after all, they both served the Most Holy, so it was her will that they both tried to follow.

The mention of the Divine had the desired effect.

"You serve Divine Justinia?"

"I do."

"So, she has not abandoned her flock?"

"No, she is even now seeking a way to end this war. To save us all from the chaos that is spreading because of it."

The mage, Kessella nodded.

"Was that why you were with the Templars? Were you acting on the Divine's orders?"

It sounded like a question, but he recognized that it could also turn into an accusation. Many mages still thought the Templars did the chantry and the Divine's bidding.

He did not want this woman to think that the Most Holy wanted her dead.

"The Divine had nothing to do with the attack on you and your friend," Reaper assured her, "The Templars are acting on their own now, and have been since the collapse of the Nevarran Accords."

The Enchanter frowned.

"So it is true, the Templars have truly abandoned the faith?"

"There are a few still loyal," Reaper said, "But their numbers are so few, the chantry has little say in what the order does now."

Not wishing her to see him as an enemy, Reaper chose to speak as truthfully as he could about what had happened to him these last few weeks. He told her about the mission the Divine had sent him on, and of the storm that had sidetracked him. He told her of the loss of his partner, and of the Templars finding him and recruiting him into their cause. He told her of Martel and Amelia, and the power games currently raging through the ranks of the Templar officers.

He hated to admit it, but if felt good to unburden his soul after being so guarded for so long. He had not dared speak anything around the Templars, lest one try to take advantage of what he or she had heard.

Kessella was a good listener, and it did not say anything until he had finished.

Whether she believed him or not, he could not say for certain, but…it appeared that she did.

She smiled again.

"That was a brave thing, trying to remind the order of its duty, trying to bring it back."

"Brave, maybe," he said, "But also pointless. Nothing I did swayed anyone, and I was almost lost too. I was willing to go so far to achieve power."

"We are all weak," she said with a shrug, "And who is to say you were entirely unsuccessful, your example may just have been enough to change some minds, only time will tell."

"Time, we don't have," Reaper informed, "By now the Knight-Commander is sure to know that his plan failed, in his desperation, he may decide to attack West Hill, to make these people pay for the failure of his schemes."

"The Arl is preparing for that," Kessella promised him, "He has sent word to Denerim, the king has promised support if either Templars or mages attack this place."

"Would your fellows attack here?" he asked.

"Those of my fraternity, I don't think so, though I fear that many of us are now as desperate as your Knight-Commander Martel. They would only see a base from which to launch attacks against their enemies, but as I said, the Arl is preparing, he will be ready if such a thing happens."

The paladin nodded.

"If the Templars do attack, I will share what I know about Martel's forces with the Arl, it likely won't insure victory, but it may give him an edge at just the right time."

"I'm sure His Grace would be most grateful, ser," the mage said, "And if you need my aid, I will stand with you when you come before the Arl. I've known Wulfe almost ten years now; he will listen to my counsel."

"I can ask nothing more of you, Enchanter."

"Please, ser, call me Kess, everyone else I call friend does."

Reaper smiled. He could not help it; the woman had an engaging demeanor. It made her extremely hard not to like her.

"Are we friends, Kess?" he asked.

"That remains to be seen," she said, "I will go speak with the Arl, see if I can convince him to remove your restraints. You will try nothing foolish until I return, will you?"

"You have my word," he promised.

"Good enough," she said and turned to leave. Reaper watched her, as she left, the long fancy braids in her auburn hair, the lithe way she moved.

His smile widened….

…A most engaging woman, indeed.

"Oh," one last thing, noble ser," she said.

"Yes?"

"You were talking in your sleep, you mentioned someone named Dee several times. Who is Dee, if I may ask?"

Reaper lay back, a fresh stab of pain ran through him, more mental than physical...

"My partner," he said, "The blind woman that I spoke of."

"I see," Kess said, a slight tilt of her head, it seemed as if she was evaluating something, when she spoke again, she seemed…more thoughtful, almost sad.

"A very lucky girl, I'm sure," she said as she headed out to find the Arl.

Reaper sighed and closed his eyes.

A lucky girl, he thought.

He hoped so.

It would have taken more than a bit of luck to survive the storm that separated them, but if anyone could survive, Dee could.

He needed to get word to one of the chantry's that worked with Leliana, if Dee had survived, she would have left a message for him.

He no longer had any excuses.

He was finally free to find her, and find her…he would...

His hands curled into fists.

…And Maker save anyone who got in his way, mage or Templar alike.

He would not be denied.

He would find her.


	29. The Success

**Chapter 29: The Success**

After threatening to hit for the last few weeks with heavy gray clouds, winter finally slammed into Ferelden like a hammer. A blizzard descended from the Frostbacks, burying must of the country in five to six feet of snow. The wars that had sprung up during the fall ground to a halt as the fields of battle and routes to possible targets filled with snow.

Both the mage rebellion and the Orlesian Civil War drew to a halt, at least for now. Armies made camps settling to await the coming of spring. War leaders and the overly ambitious made the best use of this time, coming up with new strategies, and preparing to move as soon as the winter weather broke.

It was a brief respite from the chaos, a respite that would likely end with the snow.

In Denerim, Sister Daelle did her best to serve the chantry's interests; of late she had been forced into a more commanding role than she had in the past. Her position with both the Nightingale and the Divine made her a person of importance in these troubled times, more so, given the intensification of the wars before winter hit.

With the grand cleric busy dealing with the faithful and assuring the nobility that things would return to normal soon. Dee found herself meeting often with this agent or that. She would take a seat in the back corner of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, and conduct her business. The noise of the place, not to mention the crowd trying to escape the heavy snow outside provided the perfect cover for her work, and it insured that what she was doing stayed private. Today, she was sitting down with one of their own, another servant of the Nightingale, who had only just managed to beat the storm and arrived safely.

To be truthful, she was not sure she liked his take on the situation.

IOI

"You have pleased the Most Holy, Sister Daelle; your service to the faith is most appreciated."

Dee nodded, accepting Barber's words, but not entirely feeling worthy of them. All she had done since crawling out of the sea all those weeks ago had been directed towards one singular purpose, to find her partner, and bring him home.

So far, she had not accomplished that goal, regardless of what her superiors thought.

When she had sent her most recent report to Sister Leliana, she had hoped that her mentor would make the journey herself here to Denerim. She needed her guidance, plus it would have been good to speak of other matters that did not involve their work, personal feelings that were likely getting in the way of doing what needed to be done. Alas, the Nightingale had not been able to make that journey, her duties to Divine Justinia made such a trip impossible at this time. So, she had sent Barber, another of her agents.

Dee did her best to keep her smile on her face.

She had not needed praise right now.

She had needed _advice_.

Sadly, she would get only the former from the young agent.

"I wish I could share in the Divine's pleasure," she informed the agent, "alas, I cannot, not until Ser Reaper has been found and is back among us."

She shrugged.

"That is my main goal, Serah, saving the life of my partner."

"Of course, sister," the man agreed, "Of course, the Divine is praying for Reaper's safe return, and we have agents looking for him throughout Ferelden, but that does not mean that you should discount everything you have done for the chantry. The network you have established here will be a great help in the year to come."

Dee pursed her lips, there were times when she wished that she could see; this was one of them. She would have liked to have looked into the man's eyes, seen what was there. Normally, a person's voice gave her clues about a person's feelings and motivations. She had learned long ago to listen for sarcasm or the hint of frustration. Her teacher's agent seemed truthful, but that did not mean that he was.

Where Reaper's life was concerned she took no chances; especially after his near death back in Val Royeaux.

"Perhaps," Dee agreed, pushing back her fears, "I serve the chantry in all things, if what I have created serves the faith…then I am content. If this is indeed the will of the Maker, let it be so."

The network that Barber described had grown up with little effort from her. It had come into being almost…naturally. As word of her presence here in Denerim had spread, word of the blind sister that had the ear of the Divine spread quickly from her allies, and soon, she found that she had many people seeking both her attention and her favor, and some…no doubt seeking to see her end. She did what she could to remain watchful for those that sought to harm her, but it was not an easy challenge.

There were many out there now who did not wish to see the chantry succeed.

As for the network, itself, it had grown out of the charity, and the willingness to do business. It was the people that she had met here in Denerim that had brought it all together, not her.

The dwarves had been the first. The profits gained by Baelgun Dace and his family had inspired others in the dwarven merchant's guild to seek her out. The dwarves of Orzammar were starting to discover just how much this war was going to affect their profits. Trusted allies within the chantry were no longer there, and those that sprung up in their places had their own agendas, some supporting the Divine, others supporting the Templars, and half a dozen other various goals and schemes.

Dee's presence offered a solution, a way to cut through the bureaucracy and have a direct line to Justinia. Leliana had been more than willing to aid her student in this, her own history with the dwarves allowing Dee to quickly grasp the ebb and flow of dwarven politics.

Baelgun advised caution. Since finding her on the beach that day, the dwarf had grown fond of her, as she had of him and his family; their relationship had turned him into one of her staunchest allies. He did his best to guide her through the tangled web of dwarven politics here in the Ferelden capital, even going so far as offering his son as her bodyguard, just in case.

"Me and the Missus will feel safer knowing Kel is watching your back," the old warrior had said, "It is a dark and treacherous shaft you are now travelling down, lass. You will need protection.

She had accepted of course, after everything the man had done, how could she refuse? Keldon was not too far away, she knew. No doubt he was even now watching Barber closely, making sure he did not try anything funny.

"Speaking of Reaper," Leliana's agent said matter-of-factly, "has there been any news from your sources, here. I'm afraid our own has turned up little of late."

Dee blinked, unable to completely hide the look of disbelief.

"I'm surprised to hear that," she answered, "I know little of the scope of my mentor's work, but I do know that it is extensive. I cannot believe that she has heard nothing."

"Unfortunately," Barber replied, "The Most Holy currently has the Nightingale's attention directed elsewhere. Events are moving faster than either of them could have anticipated. Chaos is spreading."

"So it is all falling apart then," Dee grimaced, "The chantry is crumbling all around us?"

"This war is _taxing_ us," Barber agreed, "the Templars and mages continue to seize chantry assets for their own use, and with each loss, our prestige dims. Though I don't know all the details, I do know that both Seeker Cassandra and the Nightingale have been dispatched."

"To what purpose," Dee inquired.

"Recruitment, at least that it what it seems like, we are searching for… _certain people_. People that can both fight for us and at the same time inspire the faithful."

She felt Barber's hand on hers.

"If you can find Reaper for us; that would be a big help, our resources are not unlimited in such matters I fear."

The sister nodded. What the agent said made sense, but once again it brought up many questions. What exactly was the Divine recruiting for, and who exactly were both her left and right hands trying to find?

 _Such questions are above you,_ her sense of duty reminded her, _focus on Reaper; you have enough resources here to do that at least._

She sighed.

It would have been nice to have had her mentor's help, but it would not be the first time that she would have to act alone. She and Reaper had done it many times during their travels together.

It seemed that the Divine was giving her free reign for the moment.

She had best make use of it.

"Reaper _**was**_ with the Marcher Templars, my sources have confirmed that, but he is no longer among them."

"I see," the agent replied, "Do we know what happened?"

"I wish I could say that we did," she said shaking her head, "These Marchers have suffered several major setbacks in the last few weeks. We know that they have lost control of both Highever and Amaranthine, and only just yesterday I received word that their camp was raided by the mage rebellion. A raid that ended with their army scattering, and that was before the storm hit. Who could say what will happen now."

"Are we sure that Reaper is even still alive?" he asked.

Dee sighed.

She was getting tired of answering that question. It was all she could do to keep from thumping the man over the head with her cane.

Was it possible he was dead, yes, but that did not mean that her heart did not deny it with every beat?

 _He has to still be alive,_ she thought.

 _He has to be._

"All we know is that Reaper was sent on a mission for the Templars and that he did not return. I've also heard a rumor that the Templars' leader, this Knight-Commander Martel has put a bounty on the head of a knight that resembles Reaper."

She shook her head.

"If he was dead, I do not believe the Templars would bother."

"Do you trust this source?" Barber asked, "It would not be the first time that either the mages, or the Templars, fed us false information.

Dee's eyes narrowed, first he wanted her to try and find Reaper, now he found fault with her findings?!

Despite her blindness, she felt a red heat suffuse her.

"You asked what I've heard, and _I have told you_ ," she replied hotly, " **I trust the source, so let's leave it at that."**

"I did not mean to offend, sister," Barber said in his most soothing voice, "I will trust your instincts on this, as the Most Holy does."

Dee bit back an angry retort, she felt that the man was talking down to her, but she let it go.

She had no desire to have Barber go back to Leliana and tell her that he thought her student could not handle the pressure of being on her own.

As with the source, she trusted it as well as any other, provided the coin on offer was still good, for that was what Rafe desired, that…and perhaps the chance to win something more.

IOI

She had to admit, she was a bit surprised when the Rivaini informed her of his intention to stay in her service. Yes, he had been true to his word and got the information she desired on Reaper, but alas, it had arrived after her partner had been sent off by the Templars, there had been no time to get a message to him. She thought the matter would end with that, their business concluded, she had assumed that Rafe would go off in search of new projects and profits that had not happened.

"I think the chantry could still use my help," he informed her, "though it is true I like to seek out warmer climes in the winter, I can certainly see the value of staying here."

After that conversation Baelgun had pulled her aside, warning her that he got the feeling that the man's intentions went beyond mere profit. He warned her to watch herself around him."

You think that I cannot take care of myself?" she asked the dwarf.

"In a fight, aye, I know you can take care of yourself, but this…this won't be a fight. Rafe knows how to get what he wants. So…just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," she had said with a grin. It was sweet the old warrior worried about her, but it was really unnecessary.

Dee was no babe in the woods when it came to the attentions of men, and besides, it did not really matter.

As far as the blind sister was concerned, her heart was already spoken for.

IOI

"My sources will continue to look in on the Templars," she promised her mentor's agent, "We will know if anything interesting happens."

"Excellent!" Barber exclaimed, "Then all that leaves us then is the mages, do we have any good information on that front."

"I'm working on that," Dee promised, "My contact has reached out to a few old friends, but even she admits, it will take time, the mages are not the unified force they once were."

"Hopefully your friend can find out something, we know next to nothing about the mages since their flight from Val Royeaux."

 _And we likely won't._ Dee thought, _the mages are understandably paranoid these days, and who can blame them. Fortunately, she had perfect agent for this kind of work. One who was both cunning and enjoyed the thought of manipulating members of the old circle._

Andrea Wren fit was more than happy to do what needed to be done, provided there were rewards waiting for her at the end.

Rewards that Dee had promised to see her get. That promise had been all it took to win the mage's loyalty.

She had admitted of course, that she had burned many bridges in the last year, old friends and acquaintances would have nothing to do with Andreas Wren. Fortunately, for them, Andreas Wren was dead.

Andrea Wren had little trouble rebuilding old fences.

They had discussed it two nights ago over an evening meal.

"I shall tell them that I am the…sister of my former self, which is not far from the truth, this new body of mine not only looks enough like my former self that my old friends will buy the story, but should be more than willing to help their old acquaintance's poor suffering sister."

Rafe, who had been with them during that conversation, chuckled.

"And if that fails," he offered, "I'm certain you can use your… _other attributes_ to gain their help."

"And what does that supposed to mean?" the mage asked, her voice turning frosty.

"Only that some of your old colleagues might find the new you attractive," the Rivaini said, "I'm sure you could work out some kind of trade with them."

Andrea let out an angry hiss, if her voice was cold before, now it turned sub-zero.

"Shut up," she spat.

"You know you should really count your blessings," Rafe continued, "this new form of yours is…well…it's quite fetching. You should be grateful to your sister; her spell could have brought you back as an old crone, or some fat, little buck toothed harridan…."

"Do you want me to turn you into a newt, Rafe," she asked, "that is the least that I can do to you... I…"

"Andrea," Dee said.

"What?" the mage growled.

"This is not helping," she said coolly.

The mage hissed under her breath and fell silent.

"And at the same time, Rafe," the sister added, "You should not tease Andrea so much, she still has much to work out in this new life, there is no point in us making it worse for her."

If the Rivaini agreed, his voice gave her no clues.

"I shall try to hold my tongue in the future, sister," he promised, "For you if nothing else."

She sighed.

Not really the answer she was hoping for, but it would have to do.

She needed both of her companions right now.

It would do little go to invite further strife between them.

IOI

No sooner had Barber left; that Kel Dace came up beside her; she felt his warm breath on her neck, and the smell of dwarven ale.

"Rafe's back, Milady," he said, "And that girl in black is with him."

Sister Daelle nodded.

The girl in black was, of course, Andrea Wren. From what she had gathered from the others the mage wore nothing but black, black skirts, black trouser, black blouses, and cloaks.

The Dace family did not like Andrea much, not that Dee blamed them; the mage was hardly sociable, especially given the dwarven resistance to magic.

As always she could hear Rafe and Andrea bickering, it seemed that the two did not know how to have a civil conversation.

"Wat are you wearing?" the mage asked.

"A bear skin cloak," the Rivaini replied, "Not the height of Orlesian fashion, but it does keep one warm."

"You look ridiculous," the mage chuckled.

"Least I don't have to wear a corset, old buddy," Rafe replied, "By the way, you missed a few loops."

The mage hissed under her breath.

"I swear: if I ever meet the bastard who designed corsets I'll kill him. I can barely breathe in this thing."

Dee tried to hide her smile, it sounded like the mage was in a prickly mood today.

She did not wish to antagonize her, and plus, she agreed with her.

Corsets could be a pain.

"Rafe," Dee called out, "Andrea."

"Sister," the mage said in greeting.

"Milady," Rafe said taking her hand and kissing it chastely.

Dee smirked slightly.

 _You can turn off the charm,_ she thought.

 _I'm immune._

"Have either of your heard anything good?" she asked the two.

It was Rafe who responded first.

"I just got done speaking with one of my contacts in the carta," he informed her, "It seems what we heard about the marcher Templars being attacked was true, their army took heavy losses and has scattered, some, no doubt, on the way to Kinloch Hold, probably to beg their Ferelden brothers to take them in, others probably looking to regroup and find a way to regain their lost advantage."

"With luck the bulk of those men will freeze to death in the storm," Andrea purred, "I spent enough cold winters on the run in this country to know how miserable it is to be outside and on the run. Let the Templars learn that lesson now, let them freeze _their_ asses off in some barren field."

Dee said nothing to that, it was uncharitable to wish such things on others, but it might just do the trick to teach the renegade Templars a bit of humility. Who knew in the spring, a few might actually come back to the fold, to free themselves of future suffering if nothing else.

"What of my partner," she asked them both, "Have you heard any news of him?"

"The bounty is still live for this: "Ser Reaper," Rafe assured her, "I doubt that it would be if one of the Templars or their hunter allies had gotten lucky."

Dee nodded grimly, it was something at least, hope that she might still find her partner alive.

"The mages know nothing about your friend," Andrea informed her, "But I did hear something interesting, could be a lead, and could be nothing."

"Really," Dee said, trying not to get her hopes up.

"What did you hear?"

"A story out of West Hill," the mage continued, "Not from a mage minds you, but from a dealer of…things that mages find useful. He mentioned something of a knight in black armor, one that slew several Templars while protecting a mage under the Arl's protection.

Dee's heart beat faster.

Could it be? She wondered.

Was it possible?

"Is the knight still in West Hill?" she asked trying to keep her voice level.

"Not according to my source," Andrea said, "But he did over here the Arl mention something about a village in the Frostback Mountains, a possible destination for your friend perhaps?

"Maybe," Dee said smiling, resisting the urge to run out into the snow and see about finding a horse.

No one would be leaving Denerim until the snow let up, she knew that, but that did not mean that she did not wish to.

"Did your friend, happen to hear the name of this place?" she asked.

"Funny name," Andrea admitted, "Chantry sounding, Hope, Salvation, something like that…"

Dee grinned.

"Haven?"

The mage paused.

"Perhaps, sister," the mage agreed.

"Perhaps."

Sister Daelle's heart pounded.

Was it possible?

Could Reaper be on his way back to Haven?"

She would need to go to the chantry. She could not travel in this mess, but perhaps a bird could be sent, the chantry here would no doubt have a means of sending a bird to Haven.

Who knew, she thought, Perhaps Reaper was safely there now.

She could hope.

"I want you both to keep an ear out for anything else," she said, "If hear anything else about the Templar bounty or about some knight slaying Templars, I will want to hear immediately."

"As you wish, sister," Rafe said.

"Sure," Andrea added, "Though I'm not sure why you would be so interested in a single knight with everything else going on."

Dees shrugged.

"It is about hope for the future, Andrea, my hope."

She smiled brightly.

"I thank you both for helping keep it alive, bless you both."

"Bless you."


	30. The Refuge

**Chapter 30: The Refuge**

The door gave way with one swift kick. Reaper lunged into the room, his burning blade pushing back the darkness, shield before him, at the ready. He scanned the shadows with a trained eye, eager to deal with any threat.

He found…nothing. The light of his sword and the fading daylight revealed an empty cabin, some crates in one corner, and before him an empty frame that once had held a straw mattress.

The paladin chuckled, so much trouble for an empty hut. Still better safe than sorry, this far off the beaten path, anything could have been hiding in here.

 _I make a big entrance, and not a single person here to see it,_ he thought dryly.

Who says the Maker does not have a sense of humor?

From behind, Enchanter Kessella emerged, her magical shield shimmering in the light of his sword.

"Are we alone?" she asked in a shy cautious voice.

"Yes," Reaper informed her, the flames of his sword dying, "There is no one else here.

Noticing a lantern hanging near them, the mage gestured, causing a light to spark into existence. The space around them filled with a low, gentle orange glow, confirming what Reaper thought.

No one else was here…they were alone.

"What is this place?" the mage asked.

"Hunting cabin, I think," the paladin replied, he ran his finger over one of the crates, from the thick counting of dust on his gauntlet. Not to mention the cobwebs scattered here and there. It was safe to say that no one had been here in a long time.

He sheathed his sword while the mage closed the door and locked it behind them. Outside the wind continued to wail like an angry child, snow still clung to their cloaks, and the redness of their cheeks told the tale of the cold and biting wind the two had just escaped.

Reaper went through the crates one by one, finding only a few left behind hunter's tools, traps and the like, and six dark black furs hung up on the walls. The place was larger than most such places; he guessed it could five or six people comfortably, so there was more than enough room for him and the mage. The cabin had only a single window that he covered quickly with one of the heavy furs. He thought the wind and blowing snow would hide any light coming from the lantern, but chose not to take chances. Until the storm passed, they were likely stuck here.

He had no desire to have uninvited guests.

The mage shook out her cloak, wet snow fell on the dirt floor of the cabin. Reaper nodded to himself. Despite clearly being abandoned for some time, this place would serve nicely as shelter from the storm. Any hunter determined enough to try and pick up their trail would not have the best of luck. The wind a and blowing snow would soon erase any tracks left behind, and with such low visibility, it would be hard to see your hand in front of your face, much less find this place, Maker knew, he had almost missed it himself, had the winds not let up at just the right moment he and the Enchanter might still be wandering through the snow.

We got lucky, for once, he thought, now if only that luck would hold until they reached Haven.

Once they had reached the village, they would be fine. The soldiers and priests there were fiercely loyal to the Divine, and if the Templar did have spies there those agents would be able to do little but send a letters until the spring came.

It was the possibility of such a refuge that drove him to make this journey. He hoped that he had not made a mistake.

Fall had been holding on for weeks, and that had lulled him into a false sense of security, he had thought that they had more time. The paladin had hoped to make it to Haven before winter **truly** set in. Storms such as this were not uncommon in the Frostbacks. It was one of the reasons that Haven had remained so isolated over the years, despite its value to the Andrastian faith. Winter was always very hard in the Frostbacks, and the roads that chantry had been working on expanding were still not good enough or well-travelled enough to keep open during the winter months... There had been times that the village had been snowed in for months, which would have made it a perfect place for the mage to hide until she could contact her fellows. It also would have given Reaper time to begin his search for Dee without having to look over his shoulder all the time.

Sadly they had not had a chance to reach it in time, the weather that had been threatening for weeks had finally come down on Ferelden. Winter was here, and once again travel through the mountains would slow to a crawl, if not stop entirely. Reaper still believed it possible to reach Haven, but it would be slow going, made even more so by the fact that they were likely being pursued.

Reaper's fingers curled into angry fists.

 _Damn Martel,_ he thought, _and damn his bloody ambitions._

He hoped the man was freezing his ass off somewhere now.

He glanced over at his companion. He hated to admit it, but he had said little to the mage since his awakening in West Hill. She had been busy going about her duties, and he, despite everything that had happened, had continued to keep the distance that was expected of a Templar when dealing with a mage. They had been cordial enough, but neither of them had made any real attempt to be friendly.

He sighed.

Was it any wonder the war between Templar and mage had come? Despite his words to the contrary, he had continued to **act** like a Templar, even though he knew where that distance led, and despite everything he had seen in the last few years.

He was disappointed in himself…extremely disappointed.

If the Enchanter took offense, she did not show it. She had quickly begun going through their supplies, trying to determine what that they had to work with while they waited out the storm here. They had lost much since their flight from that first group of hunters. Their horses had fallen shortly after their first day, leaving them to travel on foot. They were now reduced to what they were carrying when the attack first happened. They would need to restock before too long,

The mage moved away from their bags, she kneeled down before a small stone basin in the corner.

"Found something?" he inquired.

The mage looked up, a cheery smile on her face.

"A blessing," she exclaimed, "Come…see for yourself."

He did as she bid, and could not entirely hide his own smile when he saw what she had discovered.

A small bubbling pool of water gurgled before them, once merely a trickle; it had clearly been expanded by the people who had built this place. A hole had been dug out, and lined with stones to keep the water from flowing out and turning the dirt floor to mud. The Enchanter reached down with two fingers and brought a small taste of the water to her lips.

"Sweet," she exclaimed, "A natural mountain spring I suppose. I can see why the hunters chose to build here now."

She turned to Reaper grinning triumphantly.

"The Maker has favored us this day. We have fresh water without having to result to using melted snow."

He nodded slightly.

A mountain spring probably would be more healthful than snow melt, not to mention the fact that they would now not have to risk going outside again, just yet.

They had shelter and water. Their food supply was a bit limited, but Reaper did not see that becoming a problem just yet. When the weather let up a bit, he intended to go out and set one of the traps he had found. He thought he had seen several hare and squirrels while making their way here.

Fresh meat would be a welcome change after so many days of dried fruit and salted beef.

The mage refilled their water skins, while he saw about getting a fire going. The blowing snow would hide any smoke rising from the small fire pit. Not that anyone would last outside long in the storm, certainly not long enough to see it.

He was aware the risk, there was danger, yes. Yet, he would likely have risked a fire even had that not been the case. The last light of the day was fading, and with it the temperature was falling. If they hoped to survive the night, a fire was necessary.

As he worked his mind drifted back to everything that had happened in the last few days. Though he had had the best of intentions, things had not worked out the way he had planned.

It might have been better to have stayed in West Hill, gotten word to the chantry of his survival, and tried to find out what happened to Dee.

Of course, there had been dangers in that course as well. Both he and the Enchanter had agreed that the people of West Hill would suffer if they chose to remain. The Arl had not been pleased with that decision, but had done his best aid them in their journey. They had left the fortress with a small escort and not a word to anyone. Only the Arl and his most trusted advisors had known about their leaving Reaper had hoped that that would be enough to keep them safe from Templar reprisals. Sadly, he had been mistaken, whether by the actions of a spy or perhaps the word of a simple look out, hunters loyal to Martel and the Templar order had found them.

After a short and bloody battle, he and the mage had ended up fleeing into the woods with only a few supplies in hand. Had it not been for the storm, they might not have escaped.

Now they were forced to hide here, in the middle of nowhere. They had seen little evidence of further pursuit, but that did not mean that they were not followed.

Hopefully the weather would be enough to discourage any further attempts to track them, though he doubted it. Templars had long memories, and from what he learned during his travels, knew how to nurse a grudge.

He never imagined that he would find himself in such a position, hiding from the chantry's defenders. Of course, he never imagined that the Templars would abandon the chantry either.

These were truly interesting times that they lived in.

 _Don't dwell on it,_ the warrior part of him seemed to say _, focus on your duty, both to the Divine and the chantry. Your enemies do not walk in the Maker's light, which gives you the advantage; stay in that light and you cannot fail._

He smiled grimly. He wanted to believe that; that the Maker would shield him, but belief was not enough.

He needed to be smart right now.

Faith alone would not save them.

As the sky grew darker, the temperature continued to drop, he could now see his breath as he worked, and his teeth chattered despite being out of the wind. When the fire finally burst to life he almost sighed with relief.

It had been a near thing, finding their way here, but now at least they had a chance.

He did not like to think what would have happened had they not found this place. The cold may have ended up doing what the hunters failed to do.

"It…it is d…done," he informed the mage, "We…we can…"

His eyes widened as he looked up, his mouth fell open.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking away quickly.

While he had been working on the fire, the mage had pulled down another of the furs from the wall. Without a word of explanation, she had begun to strip out of her robes, hanging them carefully up on the wall to dry. When she was down to her breast band and smalls, she wrapped the fur around her, covering herself the best she could.

Reaper blushed, not sure what to make of all this.

What in Andraste's name did the mage think she was doing?

She sighed.

"I'm cold and wet," she informed him, "I did not survive an attempt on my life and spend the day trudging through knee deep snow just so that I could catch a chill and die from wearing wet robes."

He dared a glance up; she stood before him wearing the furs, looking as harsh and matronly as he had ever seen her.

"You should do the same, Ser knight," she said matter of factly, running her fingers through her damp hair, "We cannot afford to have you getting sick either."

He blinked at the suggestion.

Me…but…but you are just standing there!

His head acknowledged what she was saying, but the rest of him.

His blush darkened. A fact that he hoped she would miss with the shadows.

Whether it was his silence, or the look on his face, she did figure out what was wrong.

She smiled wryly.

"Your modesty is appreciated, but unnecessary, good ser. Growing up in a circle, privacy was luxury we could rarely afford, and besides…"

Her expression turned sly.

"I'm no innocent maid, I've had a lover or two over the years, you have nothing I've not seen before, trust me."

Reaper nodded, he ran his hand over his neck.

"I suppose you have," he admitted, hating how young and shy he sounded.

The mage's amusement did not lessen.

"I shall turn around," she offered, handing him one of the furs, "Let me know when you are done."

She did as she said she would and turned. It did help, he admitted, but still, the intimacy of this still made him uncomfortable.

 _Better a little uncomfortable than getting sick from the cold,_ his conscience chided, _you know what you have to do, soldier._

 _Get on with it._

Reaper sighed, and got to work.

The armor and mail he had gotten from the West Hill armory was not as strong as he was used to, but it had served its purpose. As he disrobed he made a point of checking for damage, he would no doubt have time to service it before the storm let up, and he did not wish to miss anything.

The Enchanter remained true to her word, though from the tilt of her head he was not sure she was being entirely honest about not watching. He sighed, dismissing this for the foolishness that it was. They were still in dire straits and needed to trust each other if they were to survive.

He could afford to take a small hit to his modesty.

He informed her when it was done, and she turned with a glad smile. Despite the musty smell, Reaper could not deny that he felt better, his teeth were no longer chattering, and he as not shivering…

…Both good things when trying to survive in the Ferelden wilderness.

Normally the cold did not bother him, the fires that he had been cleansed in helped keep the chill away; the fact that he was cold was evidence of just how bad it was going to be tonight.

He owed the mage for helping him acknowledge that.

The Enchanter joined him by the fire, warming her hands against the flames.

"Cozy," she said dryly, "A bit rustic perhaps, but I think I might suggest this place to my friends."

Reaper chuckled.

Rustic wasn't the word he would use, but any port in a storm, right.

At least they were out of the cold.

For a time they sat silently, staring into the fire. Outside the wind continued to blow, held at bay by the wooden walls of their cabin.

Reaper glanced over at his companion. Her expression was thoughtful, her brow furrowed in a way that most would find cute on such a pretty face.

He smiled slightly.

There was nothing wrong in saying a pretty woman was pretty, he knew, the fact that she was a mage however made him a bit wary, but that was his Templar training again. Even though he could not really remember it, he knew what had been drilled into him so long ago.

Perhaps the time had come to do something about that.

"Enchanter?" he asked.

"Yes, ser knight?"

"Could I ask you a few questions, about you, I mean?"

Her brow furrowed further.

"Me? I'm an open book, Ser. I'm a member of the Circle and a member of the Loyalist fraternity."

"That is good for a chantry report, I suppose, but not necessarily good when you are trying to get to know someone."

She regarded him with a curious look.

"Are you trying to get to know me?"

The paladin shrugged.

"We have the time," he reminded her, "I can't say for sure how long this storm will last; we might as well talk about something to pass the time."

The mage considered that.

"If we are going to talk," she said, "Perhaps you can tell me a bit about you. I mean no offense, but you have not been very talkative since you woke in West Hill."

"True," he agreed, "Though that has nothing to do with being evasive, I assure you. The only real memories I have is of the time I spent serving the Divine these last few years, and those stories are not the type you tell another person during polite conversation."

He sighed.

"It would be nice if I could remember something. What games did I play as a child? What sweets I favored. Did I ever question my duty; did I have a favorite song? What was the name of the girl I shared my first kiss with?"

Reaper shook his head.

"All I know about myself is what is in my chantry file, and when I read it I felt no more attachment to it than I would had I been reading about a complete stranger."

He gave her a sad look.

"Perhaps that is why I asked about you. I can't say how I came to this point, beyond my duty. It would be nice to know a bit more about the person who is sharing this journey with me, that is all."

The Enchanter's eyes remained cool evaluating him perhaps, maybe trying to determine if he was telling the truth.

Finally, she sighed.

"Okay then," she nodded, "I'll tell you a bit about me, but I'm warning you, it is a bit boring.

Reaper grinned.

"That is okay," he said, "Boring can be nice sometimes.

She laughed lightly at his comment.

"Okay, don't say that I didn't warn you."


	31. Kess

**Chapter 31: Kess**

As the last light of day faded, and the cold wrapped around the tiny cabin like a vice, the mage began her tale. She and Reaper stayed as close to the fire as they dared, the orange light barely kept the shadows at bay, and the warmth of the fire remained the only thing that made the night bearable.

The mage sighed, and rested her head against Reaper's shoulder. The paladin did nothing to deny her this small and simple comfort, after the cold and fear of the day; he welcomed any type of warmth. Normally, he would never have let anyone get as close as the mage was now, but with everything that had happened, everything they had faced since leaving West Hill, he was more than willing to accept a bit of human companionship. He had been so alone since he and Dee had been separated.

 _I never realized how much I've come to depend on her,_ _how strange it feels not to have her here_ , he mused, _Dee is as much a part of me as my faith and my blade now._

It was a terrifying, yet…intriguing thought.

Ser Amelia had tried to play on that need, to draw him deeper into what was happening with the Templars, he realized that now. Maybe the mage at his side had the same objective, but if she did, it was not for power or control, for the moment, it was simple warmth…a rapport of companionship. He could have tried to resist, but he did not see the point, he was alone…they were alone…

.He needed this, maybe as much as the Enchanter did.

He welcomed any attempt at building a new rapport, perhaps the mage would even prove useful in the Divine's future plans, for now though, he was focused entirely on hearing her story, that and listening for any discrepancies., anything that might hint at the woman was a liar, needed to be investigated. A knife in the back was as deadly as any sword through the middle.

 _And so the Templar in you is still there_ , his conscience chided, _you must learn to move past it, especially if you are to find a place in what comes next._

Reaper's eyes narrowed, angry at his weakness.

He _**needed**_ to try.

And still the darkness closed in. He could hear the wind whistling through the trees outside. He could feel the cold in his bones

The Enchanter took a deep breath and sighed.

She then began her tale.

"Unlike many of my fellows, I never knew a life before the circle. I drew my first breath in the healing room of Kinloch Hold."

Reaper blinked, not sure if he heard her right.

"You were _**born**_ there?"

"Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"A little," he admitted with a shrug, "It is not the most common thing is it; a baby being born in a Circle?"

The Enchanter sighed.

"It is not entirely unheard of. Though privacy is extremely hard to come by, and intimacy discouraged, mages have still been able to find the time to…attend to our desires."

Heard words struck a strange cord in Reaper's memory. Flashes of the man he had been before the flames began to bubble up, it happened sometimes, especially when his thoughts turned to the mage circles.

It should not have been a surprise, he thought to himself, according to his file, he had served in a Circle for a time, no doubt what he had seen and did there had left an impact on him; an impact that was not so easily lost, even when everything else had been taken from him.

"So…your mother was a mage?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What about your father?"

The woman paused, though he could not see her face, yet, he felt her shudder slightly, and he doubted it was from the cold.

Sore subject, he thought, or perhaps…just troubling.

"My mother refused to name the father. I've heard that the Templars tried to force her into telling, but their methods of punishment were limited. She had gone through her harrowing, you see, and back then, the Templars obeyed chantry law."

"So…they could not use the rite of Tranquility, even as a threat?"

"Not back then," she sighed, "If only the Templars had not abandoned their oaths, if they had remained true to the faith and chantry law, perhaps this whole war could have been avoided, but we are getting off point, aren't we? You wanted to know about my past?"

Reaper nodded, given such a beginning, he was a bit curious how such a person came to be a member of the loyalists?

"As I said," she continued, "My mother refused to name my father. Eventually she was transferred to a different Circle, I'm not exactly sure where. Such files were sealed, and were denied me, even after I passed my harrowing.

"I don't know who my father was, but over the years, I did come to have certain… _suspicions_. I think he must have had at least some power in the Circle, otherwise I might never have found my way back there. He _**could**_ have been a mage, but the chances are just as good that he was a Templar, such unions have happened in the past."

Reaper considered that. Would a Templar officer take such a risk? It would depend on his feelings, the paladin supposed, had the relationship with the mage been consensual, he might have wished to keep such a child close.

It is not often that a Templar has the chance to have a child, much less watch it grow up.

Of course, the man might have had a powerful enemy or rival, perhaps they wanted to keep the girl close, to use as leverage if the time was right.

"I was sent to a chantry orphanage after that. My file listed my family name as Kinloch, given that my father never chose to step forward. I would spend the next eleven years being raised by the sisters. Being taught to read and write, educating me on the Chantry and the lessons of our prophet."

"They were preparing you to return to the Circle?"

"I suppose so; the child of a mage is more likely to be born with magic than one without. I was being watched, I'm sure of that now. No doubt the Templars had warned the sisters of my origin. Of course, I was not the only little girl in that place; many were chosen early on to prepare for a life service. I know of at least two of the girls I grew up with eventually became sisters of the faith."

Again, Reaper nodded, he was not surprised that the chantry would target young orphans to be trained. It could be difficult for a young woman in Thedas, especially one with no family, and few prospects, the chantry offered such girls a chance to be more than they would become otherwise, the best of them eventually joining the ranks of the mothers, and perhaps having a chance to become Grand Cleric one day, perhaps even Divine.

Such a chance was better than no chance, he thought, it was better than a life on the street.

"Did you ever think of becoming a sister, yourself?"

"When I was a little girl, sure, but as he grew older…"

The mage chuckled.

"What?" Reaper asked.

She shrugged.

"As I grew older, other things began to take my interest. I held true to my faith, but I wanted…other things, things that a sister's life could not provide. Had my magic not manifested, thing might have gone quite different for me."

"I thought that most mages came into their power in early childhood?"

"I was a bit of a late bloomer," she admitted, "My magic did not truly manifest until shortly after my twelfth birthday. While I was helping tend a boy's broken arm, a blue glow came to my hands, and the bone knitted like new…right before my eyes."

She laughed lightly.

"The sisters separated me from the other children after that, I was sent to a different wing of the orphanage, given my own room temporarily. The Templars arrived three days later, and so I was returned to Kinloch Hold."

"Were you angry at them for that?" he asked.

"Not really, by that point I was old enough to understand what had happened. Plus, the sisters that ran the orphanage were not as zealous as some that I've met since. They taught me that magic was a gift of the Maker, and that by being born with it, it must serve some purpose that I must become a mage in his humble service."

"You were more fortunate than most then. Most chantry folk I've met seem to view magic as a curse."

"I've met my share of those as well," she said, "All that I can do is try to show them otherwise, through prayer and my service to others, I hoped to prove that a mage can be a force for Andraste, and a true servant of the faith."

He laughed then.

She looked at him then, her brown eyes filled with confusion.

"Did I say something amusing?"

"Ironic is better word," he answered, "Most Templars I've encountered speak much about serving the Maker's will, but when it comes right down to it, that usually means serving their own ends."

He grinned.

"It is nice to hear someone speak of "helping others" as being part of the Maker's will. Far too many people I've met lately seem to think the only way to serve the Maker is to take a sword and slay those they consider enemies of the faith."

"Evil must be opposed," she said.

"But _**who**_ is truly evil," he asked, "The mage who flees the Circle, or the Templar that believes he is entitled to his own independence and throws away his vows to pursue him?"

She considered that, not answering quickly.

"I suppose that is up to the Maker to decide," she replied.

The paladin snorted.

"I suppose so. Tell me about your time in the Circle."

"There is really not much to tell, my education in the orphanage did give me an edge when it came to my studies. I was a bright child, or so my teachers used to say, I found the various schools of magic intriguing and was always willing to seek out more information about their practice. My faith guided me to the loyalist fraternity, even before I took my harrowing. My talent attracted many, hoping to gain my support and my favor."

She sighed heavily then, a shudder ran through her, Reaper did not have to be a mind reader to sense that what she had to say next was not easy for her.

"I suppose that is how Ogilvy and I first met. He had been a Lucrosian at that time, and had been sent to convince me to join."

"Was it love at first sight?" Reaper asked.

"No," she laughed, "In fact, I thought he hated me after our first conversation. He fought me on almost every topic we discussed. If I stood for something, it seemed that he would oppose it, just for that reason. If I said the sky was blue, he would say it was green, just to spite me, or so it seemed back then."

The paladin chuckled. Perhaps mages were not that much different that other people in Thedas, men and women still played the games of relationships.

"When did you two finally get together?"

She moved away from him then, lifting her head off his shoulder, her eyes seemed to bore into the flames, her expression…one of anger, or perhaps frustration.

"Uldred," she said coldly, "During the Blight, he was an Enchanter that led a revolt against the Circle, and ended up becoming an abomination. Both Ogilvy and I were there when the wardens and their companions came to free us. Uldred tortured me, tried to force me into letting a demon inside my mind…"

She shivered.

"The wardens saved us, and I ended up in the tower's healing room. I awoke to Ogilvy tending my wounds, the look on his face…it was like nothing I had ever seen before. For the first time we did not let our various arguments define us. I saw his affection for me for the first time. I know that there are those in the chantry and the circle who consider the loyalists cowards. That is simply not true. We simply did not wish to fight against the chantry, and for the most of our history, the Templars were part of the chantry. We had fought together side by side. Ogilvy and I both had friends among the Templars; one of them even gave us a chance to be alone early on. He kept watch while Ogilvy and I…came together for the first time. We spent our first night together while on the road. We both fought during the Battle of Denerim, you see."

She smiled again.

"It took a couple of months, but eventually, we found our way to each other, and have been at each other's side ever since."

She winced again.

"Were," she said flatly, "We were at each other's side. Now…now that is gone, He is gone."

The mage shook her head.

"I'm alone."

He was not sure what it was, the pain in her voice, the way her shoulders tensed, but something in him made him reach out, to put his arm around her shoulder, and draw her close.

"You are _**not**_ alone," he reminded her, I…I can't give you back what you lost, but that does not mean that I…that we…the chantry will not give up. When you fled to West Hill, when you and your man tried to set up a place to protect those from the fighting, you did the right thing; it was a brave thing, a rare thing."

He smiled at her.

"Do not lose hope, we have not lost yet. The Divine will find a way to end this…nightmare. We simply have to courage, and keep to the faith. Even this storm will pass in time; we just need the strength to endure it."

She looked at him then, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her lip curled slightly not a smile, but close.

She leaned in again, resting her head on shoulder.

She sighed contently in his arms.

"You make it sound so easy," she murmured.

"It won't be easy," he admitted, "But it is worth it. The chantry will endure; we just have to do what we can until then."

"Blessed are they that stand before the wicked and do not falter," she whispered, drawing even closer to him, seeking his warmth, and the light of the fire.

"I never truly got to thank you for saving me," she said, "You are not just a brave soul, but a righteous man. I…I'm grateful to have met you, Ser Reaper."

He shrugged, grateful for the low light, so that she could not see him blush. Her words were touching, and though he was not sure he was truly worthy of them, he was grateful just the same.

"You are welcome, Enchanter," he said.

"Kess," she said, "Please ser, call me Kess."

He smiled.

"Your welcome, Kess."

She yawned then, stretching her arms before her.

"We should try to get some rest, if the weather breaks; we will have a long journey tomorrow."

" _ **If**_ it breaks," he agreed, "If it doesn't, at least we have a safe place to hold up. We're no good to anyone if we freeze to death before we reach Haven."

"Will we truly be safe there?"

He considered her question, his brow furrowing.

Haven was pretty isolated, and with the ashes gone, it was unlikely either the Templars or the mages would choose to strike at it.

"You will be safe," he promised, "I'll protect you."

He felt her tense, at least he thought he did, for a moment he feared her had said too much; perhaps she thought him trying to take advantage. He thought she might pull away, but she did not.

An exhausted sigh escaped her lips.

"Do you promise?" she asked.

He smiled.

"I promise."


	32. Travelers

**Chapter 32: Travelers**

"I look ridiculous."

Dee smiled to herself. Andrea had been complaining bitterly since they had first left Denerim about her…disguise. Though Dee did feel some sympathy for her, she still believed it was their best option.

"I'm sure that is not true," she said in her most commiserating voice, "What do you think Kel? Does our friend look ridiculous."

The young dwarf paused briefly before answering, Dee heard the light thump of a tankard being put down, clearly she had caught the young man mid-drink."

"You look just fine there, Andie," he replied, "Just another little sister making her merry way down the road."

Dee heard an angry snort, Andrea voicing her displeasure. Not that she was surprised. The mage had not liked this idea from the start, not that Dee was surprised.

Dressing up as a chantry priest had not been _**her**_ idea, a fact that she had let the rest of her companions know, very loudly and often.

"You said you wished to be invisible," Andrea reminded her.

"I did," Dee agreed.

"Well it is not working. Half the people in this tavern are staring at us…"

"I do not doubt it."

"Then how is this being invisible? How are we keeping a low profile if everyone is noticing us?"

Dee sighed.

"Yes, they are looking at us," she agreed, "But what are they seeing, I ask you? They see two sisters of the chantry, travelling with a trader and his bodyguard. Which I might add, is not an uncommon sight in these parts."

She smiled slyly.

"They see us, but they also don't. When people see a chantry priest they see the robes, not the woman. To most, members of the faith are indistinguishable from one another. They see the robes, and don't even both looking at the face. Trust me, this is invisible as we can get."

Andrea did not reply with words, Dee heard her grunt and mumble something under her breath. It was probably the closest thing to acceptance as the mage was going to give her. Which was fine…

Dee had other things on her mind that Andrea Wren's annoyance.

IOI

They had left Denerim as soon as the weather began to clear. At the first sign of the icicles dripping over the streets. The grey sky had finally begun to give way to patches of blue, suggesting the end of the storm.

Sister Daelle had not waited a moment longer.

It was time to return to Haven.

It was time to rejoin her knight.

Charter had, of course, not been happy with Dee's decision. She had promised Leliana that she would aid Dee in whatever she needed.

Clearly…this was not what the Nightingale had had in mind.

"We are taking a risk, sister," the agent reminded Dee.

"A truly great risk."

Dee shrugged, she understood, but…

…she did not see that she had much choice.

"The weather is finally clearing," Dee said, "If we are lucky the path to Haven will still be open."

She had smiled excitedly.

"Who knows, Reaper may be waiting for us when we arrive."

"Maybe," the elf agreed, "But why must you go yourself, why not simply remain here, send a bird. I'm certain the rest of the sisters will let us know when Reaper arrives."

"I'm sure they would," Dee agreed, "But that does not change my mind. We will start out for Haven before the day is out."

The elf hissed with displeasure.

It was clear that Dee's desire and logic did not appeal to her, not that the sister blamed her.

This journey, Dee had to admit, was far from logical. It was also not very practical or smart, but still she was insistent.

Reaper was out there somewhere.

She was tired of simply waiting around, praying, and hoping to hear some good news.

She was ready to act, and not even her mentor's most trusted agent would sway her from that goal.

She _**would**_ find her partner.

They had been apart for far too long.

"And what of the war," Charter asked, "You do remember that there is a war going on?"

"Of course," Dee said.

"Then I do not need to remind you what would happen if either the Templars or mages captured you. The mages might ransom you back to the chantry, if they do not kill you on sight for being one of the people that kept them caged for so long. As for the Templars, if half the things we have heard about Reaper's time with them are true, if they capture you, and they recognize who you are, Maker's breath, Sister. I would not wish to be in your shoes if that happens."

Dee frowned. Charter made some good points, but still she would not be swayed.

She would find her partner, no matter the risk.

"Rafe seems confident that he can get us through to Haven," she said, "As for the war, the weather ground it to a halt for the time being. Right now the Templars and mages are simply trying to survive, struggling to stay warm and fed until spring. They are distracted, Charter. WE will never get a better chance to make the journey south."

"The mages and Templars are not the only threat sister. The roads beyond Denerim were thick with bandits before the storm, they are still a threat, and then there is the weather itself, if a new storm comes out of the Frostbacks, if it catches our party in the open…

The elf sighed.

"If we are caught on the road without shelter, it could be the end of all of us."

"It could," Dee agreed, "Which is why we must make haste. The longer we wait, the more the chances of such a storm coming up increase. As for any bandits we might meet, what items of value do we carry that would interest them? I'm sure there are far better targets on the road than a sister and her small entourage."

Charter sniffed, Dee could imagine the look of disgust on her face. She hoped that the agent understood that she would not be swayed. There was no point in them arguing about this, it would be done.

"At the very least let me gather some of the others, they will be far better defenders than your dwarf and the smuggler. Plus you can leave the mage here, do you really wish to be caught travelling with a magic user during a mage rebellion?"

"I have a plan to counter that," she promised the elf, "All I need now is your support, Charter. Please."

She turned her head giving the elf her most heartfelt and pleading look.

"Reaper is in danger, I know it. I can't just leave him out there alone. I can't."

She paused, hoping that the other woman would understand.

"Please," she said, "Help me."

Charter murmured something under her breath; Dee did not hear what it was, but…

She could imagine what the agent thought of taking such risks.

"Reaper would not agree with this, you know?" the elf said.

Dee winced.

"I know," she said, "But he would do the same for me. I know it."

The gent grumbled again, but did not say no.

Dee almost smiled, knowing that she had won.

"Trust me," she told the elf, "this will work, I know it."

She grinned triumphantly.

"I know it."

IOI

Despite her misgivings, Charter remained true to her mission. She and Rafe proved to be good team, both possessing an uncanny talent for finding ways to proceed on their journey without using main roads. Some of the paths had been hard going, especially with the winter coming of winter, yet, the Maker seemed to be with them.

There passage was slow, but it was possible, every day they drew a little closer to Haven.

Closer to Reaper, Dee hoped and prayed.

They had been apart for far too long.

It was time to change that.

Keldon stuck close to her, guiding her mount and helping her with the most difficult of paths. Rafe provided both the mounts and supplies. Once they were away from Denerim, they met up with a small trading caravan. Dee was not sure how the Rivaini convinced them to let their small party join them, but they did.

Charter said she thought she saw something pass between the main trader and Rafe, a scroll or perhaps some coin. The result was the same.

Dee and her party had an escort of sorts, at least for part of the way.

Andrea had not been pleased with her disguise. Given her history it was no surprise, despite all the efforts that Charter had taken.

"The Revered Mother in Denerim has provided identification papers for you "Sister" Andrea," the elf said with much amusement, "Congratulations; you are now a sister of the chantry."

"Joy," the mage said dryly

Despite her complaints, the mage remained close to Dee, playing the part whenever anyone else who did not know the truth about her was in earshot

It was a smart move on their part, there was still a war going on.

Why take chances that there were Templar loyalists among their companions?

As for the war, they saw little evidence of either side trying to hold the roads. The cold and snow squalls had driven the two sides to seek shelter, hopefully until the spring.

Dee pursed her lips.

She could imagine how the small folk had suffered since this madness began. As they had sat by the fire in Denerim, they had heard tales of atrocities being committed by both sides. Desperation bred cruelty, whether you used a sword or magic staff, it did not matter.

Dee shuddered.

No one was blameless; there were villains on both sides of the conflict.

Hopefully the winter would give them pause, at least for now.

"The only Templars they had encountered had been yesterday, Keldon Dace had come across a camp not far from the main road. Four Templars half buried in a snow drift, frozen to death.

They have been here a while," Rafe said after a brief examination of the bodies. "Probably got separated from their fellows, there are signs of a fire, but it looks like it went out and the knights tried to tough it out until morning."

"A poor decision on their part," Charter said, "Still…freezing to death is not the worst way to go."

Dee whispered a prayer under her breath, asking the Maker to watch over the souls of these poor folk.

"Your compassion surprises me, Charter," Andrea said, her voice thick with dark glee, "Had these Templars still been alive they might have stopped us, perhaps tried to rob us and take the booty back to their Knight-Commander."

Dee heard the crunch of boots in the snow as the mage drew closer to the corpses. She heard a sound like someone clearing their throat, and then.

"Hey!" Charter called out.

"Was that really necessary?" Rafe asked.

"What is it?" Dee asked, "What happened?"

It was Kel who responded.

"Andie just spit on one of the dead Templars."

Dee frowned.

"Is that necessary?" she asked the mage.

She heard Andrea laugh, a cruel mirthless sound.

"When Andreas Wren was a boy, sister, he watched as the woman that raised him, an innocent village healer, was burned alive by men such as these. Templars did that, men who were seeking to bring an apostate to justice."

The anger, the disdain in the mage's voice was raw. Clearly the pain she felt was still sharp, even after all these years.

"Their whole order deserves no mercy," the mage said, "none."

Dee nodded. She sympathized with her ally's pain; she truly did, but…

"I'm sorry for what that poor boy suffered," she said, "But try and remember Andrea, Andreas Wren is dead. He died on execution dock."

Dee turned her head to where the mage stood. She put as much steel into her voice as she could manage.

"You are not him. Remember that."

Whether her ally agreed or not, she could not say, she simply heard the sound of footsteps, Andrea returning to her mount.

The mage sighed.

"Your compassion is wasted on the Templars, sister," she said, "If the situation was reversed, I doubt these men will feel any compassion towards you. If they found us laying frozen in the snow, the most you could hope for is a cruel laugh, beyond that, nothing."

She imagined the mage pinning her with a cold look.

"They are your enemies, now, as much as they are the mages'. Do not forget that."

Dee sighed.

She remembered what happened to Reaper in Val Royeaux.

She had not forgotten.

She had not.

IOI

After avoiding several towns and inns along the road, the small party finally entered the small village of Whitecrest.

Dee was surprised by how…noisy the place was. She heard many voices and more than a few animals, she could also make out the shouts of merchant's hawking their wares. Had she not known better she might have thought them still in Denerim? The last few settlements they had passed through had been downright sedate compared to this.

"It was a question she brought up with Rafe. The Rivaini chuckled in response.

Whitecrest in not like other towns in Ferelden, sister. Chaos may spread to the rest of the kingdom, but not here. The Lady Alyce Moore rules here…"

The man paused briefly.

"She is not known for her mercy when it comes to…chaos."

Dee was not exactly sure what he meant by that, she knew nothing of this Lady Moore.

The fact that Charter had agreed to stop here suggested that Rafe was not wrong.

This was a place not yet touched by the chaos of the fight between the mages and Templars, which surprised her.

She thought the war had spread everywhere by this point.

After seeing to their horses, the group made its way to a small tavern. It was here that they now sat, as Rafe went up seeing to getting them some refreshments, while Charter shared what she knew of House Moore of Whitecrest.

"The Moores are a fairly young house, though they have produced landed knights for generations. The latest ruler of their house is Lady Alyce Moore, called "Mad Alyce," or "Red Alyce," depending on who you ask."

"Mad Alyce," Dee said, "Is the lady mad?"

"Once again, it depends on who you ask," The elf replied, "There have been a lot of tales about the lady over the years. She is known for the rather draconian was she conducts justice on her land. It is said that even minor infractions here are punished by death, and then there are the tales about what the lady does in her private time. Some think her a monster in disguise, drinking the blood of her enemies to retain her youth and vitality. They say…"

Dee frowned.

She knew how rumor worked, and who "They" were.

" _ **They**_ say similar things and more about every powerful woman," Dee said, "I'm sure Empress Celene hears similar slander. Though I must admit I'm not surprised. Despite being under the Andrastian faith, Ferelden has remained a culture dominated by male rule. I'm surprised to find so many women holding leadership positions."

"The Blight changes things," Charter said, "A lot of Ferelden's young men died during the darkspawn invasion. Many daughters, sisters, and wives needed to take on a larger role in ruling their family holdings. The Moores are just one example of that."

Dee nodded, remembering Tanda Forrester, and what had come after.

She shuddered slightly.

The sister had no desire to be on the bad side of another mad noble.

"Maybe it is just slander," she said hopefully, "Perhaps rumors started by jealous neighbors.

"Maybe," Charter agreed, "But that does not mean that strange happenings don't occur. Many a knight has disappeared passing through or near Moore Hall."

Dee thought about that. If the woman was going to the extreme to protect her home, who could really blame her?

It was likely not easy for a lady holding lands in a place so recently ravaged by Blight, there were a lot of desperate people wandering the roads of Ferelden.

Faced with such a challenge, perhaps I would be more draconian in my justice too.

"What do you two think," Dee said addressing Keldon and Andrea.

"Do you believe the tales about this woman?"

"I know the guild doesn't like to set up meetings here," Keldon said, "They don't like to take the chance that something will happen, I heard a merchant killed a rival here, and he was taken up to the lady and was never heard from again. After that, the guild only conducts business in passing here; they don't want the lady getting involved in their affairs.

"I tried to keep to the sea as much as possible," the mage admitted, "Yet even then, when we did make port in Denerim, I would hear the occasional story about this place. Sailors and merchants like to gossip, you see, tales about this lad or that, vanishing into thin air."

The mage laughed.

"Suffice to say, I'm not willing to risk causing any trouble here."

Dee turned back to Charter.

"What of the king," she asked, "Has no one complained to Denerim about this?"

"Complaints were made sure," Rafe said coming up behind them, Dee had not realized he had returned until he had spoken up. "Lady Alyce is a staunch royalist, and has been since the days of the Blight. Most of those men that have vanished were Loghain or Howe loyalists. Chancellor Eamon was not about to lose any sleep over their loss, and besides, the lady is connected, she had five younger brothers, all married now into the families of the surrounding lords. The eldest is married to Bann Tellman's daughter, or so I've heard."

Rafe chuckled.

"If the lady is crazy, she is crazy like a fox," he said with much amusement.

"She knew exactly how to protect herself from her would-be rivals; she bound them up in blood. Now she is power unto herself.

"You can't fault the results of her actions."

Wise of her," Dee agreed, but still…

Disappearances, a lady who drinks blood…?

This was the kind of matter that she and Reaper would have investigated before the war. Perhaps this lady was simply the victim of slander by jealous rivals. Perhaps she was simply a strong woman doing her best to make her way in a predominantly man's world.

Her brow furrowed.

Then again…?

She would speak to Reaper about this, when they saw each other again. It would be some time before the snows receded and the mage rebellion flared again...

…Plenty of time for the Divine's agents to do a bit of investigating. They could…

She heard the door to the tavern open, the sound of armor clinking as someone new entered the inn.

All conversation stopped. Even Dee's allies fell silent.

A sense of danger and foreboding filled the room.

The sister leaned back; she pulled the hood of her cloak farther up, hiding her face.

"What is it?" she whispered, "Why did everything get so quiet?"

"It was Charter who answered.

"Three Templars just entered," she said.

There was a pregnant pause, and the sound of heavy foot falls, armored men approaching."

Charter hissed under her breath.

"They are heading over to us," the elf said.

Dee reached into her sleeve, feeling the familiar feel of the dagger strapped there.

 _Charter may have been right,_ she was forced to admit.

 _ **We**_ _might be in_ _ **trouble.**_


	33. Catharsis

**A/N: Bit mature here, please be warned.**

 **Chapter 33: Catharsis**

Reaper awoke to the sound of dripping water.

His eyes opened, he listened to the gentle sound, water on wood, as the icicles that had grown so long in the last week yielded to the slowly rising temperatures. Winter was nowhere over he knew, it was too early for that, even with all the changes that the Blight had wrought on the small nation.

It is a respite though, he knew, and perhaps the perfect time to start out again, to leave this place, and continue on the road towards Haven.

That was still the goal after all, the shelter this simple place had offered would not last now that the storm had ceased, no doubt the Templars, or anyone else that was seeking him, would be free to return to the hunt as well.

It would be best, he knew; if they were not still here when such hunters arrived.

He groaned, shifting slightly in the nest of furs that had served as a bed, a shiver ran down his spine, despite the warmer weather. He blinked and waited, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, the fire he had built last night was all but out, it had burned down to mere glowing embers, without it, the shadows wrapped the tiny cabin in a dark, yet, intimate embrace.

He paused, listening carefully to the darkness around him. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, but that was not what had caught his attention, after days of howling winds, the silence…was strange to say the least.

Yet, a good sign, if the weather held, he hoped that they might be able to find their way to Haven before the week was out. If everything worked out, the path to Haven would either still be opened, or be cleared enough that they could make their approach.

After that, they should be safe, at least for the time being.

He sighed, grateful to have found this place, and to have survived their flight from the Templars. He was not sure if he could say that it had been the Maker's will that they had made it, but…it was a welcome occurrence.

It would feel strange leaving here after this last week, this place had saved both his and Kess' lives, there was no doubt about that, but now that the storms had passed, the world brought about by the mage rebellion would begin to spin again.

It would be best if they got out and rejoined it.

"We need to be going," he said, "the storm has finally let up."

Next to him, the furs shifted, a soft murmur escaped from beneath them. Reaper pulled the back revealing Kessella's long brown and silver mane, her eyes still closed, and her fingers curling around the fur, hugging them tightly to her body.

The thought of not disturbing her flitted quickly through his mind, and was just as quickly dismissed.

They had spent enough time here, now…they needed to move.

He leaned in closer, gently brushing back a lock of the mage's hair, revealing one pale ear. He drew in close, so that she would not be startled when she awoke.

"Kess?" he whispered.

The mage murmured.

"It is time to wake up."

She shifted, her breathing quickened as she slowly began to wake...

"Must I," he heard her sigh.

He smirked.

"I'm afraid so."

She mumbled something and stretched, the fur sliding down and away, revealing bare skin, she had slept without a shift last night, and her slim form stood out even in the darkness. She may have been approaching forty, but she still had the body of a young girl.

He looked away, not wishing to stare lecherously at her.

The paladin pushed back his own furs and started to rise, last night he had fallen asleep with his back against the wall, so now he was forced to slide over the mage as he sought his clothes and armor. The cold air brought gooseflesh to his arms, but he did his best to ignore it. They really needed to get moving, while the weather held.

He was halfway over when Kess, now fully awake, rolled onto her back, he found himself staring into those bright brown, guileless eyes, their noses almost touching in the intimate darkness. Heat suffused his body, being so close to her; he could feel her warm breath on his face. Her expression was, coy to say the least, it brought about a stirring in his blood.

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

 _Now is not the time,_ he thought to himself.

 _Get your ass up, soldier._

Yet, still she held him with her gaze, those eyes so soft and inviting…

He swallowed hard.

She was clearly not going to make this easy for him.

"Um," he said nervously, "Hello."

The mage smiled.

"Hello and good morning, noble ser," she replied.

He tried to slip away, but one long leg gently hooked his thigh, before he could say another word, her mouth rose and covered his, their lips met, a soft, yet, bittersweet kiss, and with it, came an even greater growing heat.

She arched her back, her arms wrapping around his neck drawing him down, closer, even as she shifted the furs, moving them away from her body, removing the last barrier between them. Both warrior and mage lay intertwined on the bed of soft furs, with nothing between them but shadows.

The paladin tried to think, but between her kisses and caresses, not to mention the sudden pounding of his heart, the world swirled around him, vanishing in a warm wash of desire and lust.

He wrapped his arms around her, one sliding down her belly to her thigh, while the other cupped her left breast.

 _Damn it_ , some distant part of him thought, _damn it, straight to the void,_ but that voice faded almost as fast as it had spoken.

He was no longer thinking with mind, not now.

He surrendered to her, her legs wrapped around his bare hips, as he began to thrust inside of her, slowly at first, but soon, more vigorously. The woman began to moan, softly at first, but quickly building to a crescendo.

"Please, kind ser," she gasped, between kisses and moans, _**"Please."**_

Reaper groaned as her fingers slid down his body, as she buried her nails into the skin of his behind. He felt pain, yes, but soon it was nothing compared to the pleasure the burning fire that would simply not subside.

"Yesss," Kess sighed, "Ohhhh, Sweet Maker…YESSSS!"

Reaper did not respond with words, only continued to pleasure her.

It felt good, he did not deny that, but part of him still wished to resist, the part of him that still held Dee close to his heart.

 _What would she think of this?_

Not for the first time, Reaper felt a twinge of guilt, what had happened here, in the warm darkness of this cabin could not be simply be undone, the two of them had…taken _comfort_ from each other during the frigid stormy nights.

For the last three nights the two of them had surrendered to their most…lustful of desires. The fires of their passions had burned as brightly as the fire in this place's hearth, keeping them warm, and keeping the fear of the outside world away.

 _It is nothing,_ the mage assured him after the first time, _I asked for comfort, to feel safe and cared for, you have granted me that boon, and I am grateful._

She had smiled brightly then.

"I would never seek to replace the girl that you hold so high in your heart. What has happened here between us was merely a form of catharsis, a chance to forget the perils we have faced. Think no more of it than that. Maker knows; I will not."

 _Was it that easy for her_ , he wondered. _Was it_ _ **really**_ _that easy?_

Perhaps it was, he had heard of the Circle of Magi.

What was considered normal there was…different than what it was in the outside world, especially in matters of intimacy…

…or so the stories said.

IOI

He heard tales of the Circle of Magi, and how those confined their viewed intimacy among their peers. In the Circle, it was not an easy thing for a mage to find…release for their passions. He had heard tales of mages keeping several lovers at a time, accepting the fact that being with a single person for the rest of their days was impossible. Growing up in such a place, being forced to accept that they needed to find pleasure where they could, and try not become too attached sounded strange to most Andrastians, but in the Circle, it was apparently a way of life.

It was a way of life that Kess had been born into, and had come to accept. She had loved her partner, she did not deny that, but even that love had been tempered by the realities of the Circle, especially as the events of Kirkwall sent shockwaves of change through the Circles and the Templar Order.

Either one of us could have been transferred to a different Circle, or said or done something that convinced the Knight-commander that one or both of us should be made Tranquil. Greagoir was not as bad as some commanders, but that did not mean he would not do what he thought was best, if the situation called for her.

Both Kess and Ogilvy had agreed that if something should happen to either of them, the other would not let what happened destroy them. There was a rumor that, the mad mage Anders had loved one of his fellows, and when that mage had been made tranquil, it had started him down his path to violence and madness, if that was true or not, the mages could not say, but it was a cautionary tale to be true.

Kess was unwilling to see herself fall in such a way. She missed her lover, yes, but that had not stopped her from living.

It had not stopped her from seeking the comfort of another.

"Men were always a weakness for me, the mage had admitted one night by the fire, it is for that reason that I never desired to become a sister of the faith. Had my magic not manifested, I would likely have sought to have a life outside of the chantry, perhaps find a husband, live like everyone else.

She had laughed then, shaking her head.

"The Maker, it seems, had other plans for me. I make no apologies for who, and what I am. I am a woman and I like men. I see nothing wrong in that."

He had not given into her charms, not right away, the first two nights in the cabin had been about making sure that everything was secure, that they would not freeze or starve to death if the storm went longer than they expected.

They made a good team, he could not deny that, Kess was driven, when she set her mind to something, she did not stop until she had accomplished her goals. She reminded him of Dee in that way, he supposed.

In hindsight, Reaper realized that the mage had even then been…interested in him. He found her staying closer to him than she needed to, and at night, as they sat by the fire how she would rest her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort and warmth.

How he had not seen it before, he did not know, but now…now…

He realized that even then, the pretty little mage had been setting a trap, and what a clever trap it was…

…and he had fallen straight into it.

 _Just like Ser Amelia,_ he had thought after their first night together, but then he realized that that really wasn't fair. _The female Templar had sought to use desire to manipulate Reaper into doing what she needed him to. Kess wanted nothing more than comfort, to be desired, and to both feel and give pleasure, to find solace in dark times, and they had done that, had they not?_

He had surrendered to her, but was that such a sin? He had never taken vows of celibacy, nor pledged himself to another.

His guilt over this, wondering how Dee would react made no real sense. She was pledged to the chantry after all. Had she not told him more than once that her vows were important to her, and that she would not break them.

Should that not have freed him from any guilt?

Shouldn't it?

He had first had her during their third night in the cabin, the winds had picked up again, and the temperature fell quickly, leaving a coating of frost on the wooden walls. There fire only just managed to keep the cabin livable, only just. By that point they had finally gotten the place secured enough that they knew they could wait out the storm here. Earlier that day Reaper had managed to use the traps they had found to catch a rabbit and two squirrels. Fresh meat had raised their spirits even as the temperature fell outside. As the hour grew late, the cold left them both shivering, up to this point; they had been sleeping in shifts, one keeping watch, while the other slumbered in their bed of furs.

That night, Kess had been too cold to sleep, she had offered to sit up with him, suggesting that they should hold each other, for warmth, at least until morning; perhaps then things would not be as cold as they were tonight.

He had accepted that offer, and so he found her snuggling in his arms, her travelling robes still hung on the wall, they were dry, but did not hold in the heat like the fur wraps she had draped around herself, beneath that she wore a simple shift, while Reaper wore a light shirt and breeches.

He could not deny that it had felt good, sharing warmth on such a cold night, the orange flames burning in the hearth were almost hypnotic, he found himself dozing, both the flames and the woman making him feel secure, even if that was a lie.

He had fallen asleep after that, his thoughts drifting to Haven, of finding Dee, of bringing her back safe and sound.

Once there, he would finally be able to strike out and look for her in earnest, who knew, she might already have made contact with the chantry; even now a letter might be waiting for him, telling him where she was.

It was an exciting prospect, a happy one, and he welcomed it, without fear or concern.

When he slept, he dreamed. He dreamed of Dee and their reunion, of telling her how much he had missed her presence, and how worried he had been.

The dream had ended with him taking her into his arms, her fingers brushing his face, as he pulled her close, letting her know he was truly alright, welcoming her back to his side with the most of gentle of kisses.

He awoke then, and realized that at least part of what he had dreamed had not been entirely fantasy.

He awoke to Kess kissing him, softly, shyly. Her brown eyes bright and alert, darkening with the fires of passion.

He did not know what to say. What could he say?

The paladin started to pull away.

"Please," the mage cooed, her voice that of a child asking for a sweet, "Please, kind ser, do not turn me away."

She kissed him again, her hands drifting beneath his shirt.

He tried to pull her hands away, but instead found her breast; he could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the softness of her silken shift, and the bare skin beneath.

"I'm lonely," she sighed in a husky voice, "I've been so lonely since Ogilvy, please, ser, please."

She gently caressed his face.

"Do not turn me away.

He was not thinking with his head, when he sighed in surrender, his body knew what it desired, even if his head thought it foolish. He returned her kiss, his hand sliding over her pale creamy thigh.

Next thing he knew they were both in the furs, naked, their bodies moving in rhythm with each other. Any cries of passion that left the mage's lips were drowned out by the howling wind. The storm might have raged outside, but in the tiny hunting cabin, both man and woman were safe, and soon enough, they were warm.

They both found their release soon enough.

When it ended he laid, back, his mind awhirl with what had just happened!

It had been the first time Reaper had been with a woman since he had emerged from the flames. He did not think that this had been his first time, considering his instincts in pleasuring the lovely enchanter.

He had known women in the past, he thought, he might not remember them, but that did not mean that he had forgotten everything that had come before, flashes of acts in the sweetest moments in the darkest of nights were still with him.

It was enough to know that he was not a complete novice in the ways of the flesh.

When they were done, the mage lay panting at his side; he ran his fingers over her curves, enjoying the softness of her skin.

She smiled softly at him.

"Thank you," she purred, "I needed this."

He smiled shyly at her.

"It has been awhile," he informed her, "I wasn't too out of practice was I?"

She laughed.

"You have stamina, I will give you that," she said, "But you do need to pace yourself, take your time."

It could have been a rebuke, but there was no sting to it.

He took no offense.

"Thanks for the advice," he chuckled dryly.

She giggled a sound that made her sound more a girl of twenty then the mature woman she was.

She caressed his face with the gentlest of touches.

"It is not just for you," she admitted, "Your future lovers will likely thank me one day."

Her admission about that surprised him, how easily she could dismiss what had just happened.

"This was not about commitment, noble ser," she reminded him, "I wanted comfort, and I found it, **we** found it."

"Is that not enough?" she asked.

He thought about it and nodded, for now it was.

But it was not over not yet, not as he found himself staring at that soft and willing form lying beside him. She had awoken something within him, something not so eager to return to its slumber…

He took her again, and once more before the dawn.

And with each time, he found himself wondering about Dee, what it would be like if it was _**her**_ beside him and not Kess.

If it was, he suspected, than what had just happened here would have been far more than mere comfort.

Far more indeed...

Part of him welcomed that, his reunion with his lost partner.

He had so many things to say to her, and to show her, such thoughts left him more determined than ever.

He would find her again.

No matter what.

IOI

After sex, the two rose from the bed of furs, they said nothing as they got cleaned up and dressed, her putting on her travelling robes, and he into his clothes and armor. They checked their meager supplies one last time, before starting out again. It took a bit of work on Reaper's part to get the door open, the snow of the last few days blocked it, resisting him, but when he did, he was greeted with a sight that an artist might call spectacular.

The beauty of a bright Ferelden winter's morning shone before them.

The cabin sat on a small plateau, overlooking a rocky path into a snow covered valley below. Reaper was not sure, but he thought he could just make out Lake Calenhad shimmering to the west, and what might very well be the king's road running towards the south.

We did not make it far before the storm, he realized, perhaps they were fortunate that no hunters had been able to locate them.

Kess came to his side, drinking in the sight before them.

"Glorious," he heard the mage gasp under her breath, and for once he could not help but agree. As a soldier he was not the type to acknowledge beauty, but this, this.

This sight was truly wondrous.

"We should probably stick to the tree line where we can," he advised his companion. "I can't say how many patrols are watching the road, but…"

"Better safe than sorry," Kessella agreed, "We might be able to find some horses in Redcliffe. That might speed up our journey a bit."

 _That would be nice,_ he thought, _but it was also risky._

 _She was all professional now,_ he noticed _, the soft yielding woman had been put away, and the strong willed mage returned._

 _It was for the best,_ he thought, _she needed to be strong now._

Who knew how many Templars might be watching the village now?

Kess turned; she took one last look at the cabin, her expression wistful.

"I will never forget this place," she said. "It was truly the Maker's will that we found it when we did."

Reaper nodded. Though he was not quite sure if it was the Maker's will or not.

One thing was for certain though, he thought.

She was right.

He would never forget this place.

Yet for now, he needed to put that memory away.

Dee was still out there somewhere, he was sure of it.

He nodded grimly.

He needed to find her…

…and find her…he would.


	34. Hard Heart

**Chapter 34: Hard Heart**

Dee asked Keldon to find her a place away from their tiny camp, not so far away that she would get lost, but isolated enough so that she could think, that she could…reflect on what they had left behind.

The dwarf found her a large rock not far from the road, despite the nighttime noises of Ferelden; she could still hear their camp, the voices of her fellows.

The blind sister frowned, she was not entirely happy with them right now. Yes, they had managed to escape Whitecrest unscathed, but…but…

She was not sure if she approved of what it had taken to do so.

Considering her travels with Reaper, she understood the concept of the ends justifying the means. Reaper had often done things that others would view as…troubling, especially when said action was done by a servant of the faith. She had always accepted those actions. She recognized that the world in which they lived was rarely black and white, and sometimes, to accomplish a greater good, meant stepping outside the norms of polite society.

Yes, she understood those ideas, but that did not mean she had to like it.

That did not mean that she had to approve of what had been done.

Charter had wasted no time in getting them far from Whitecrest village. The lady's men had not tried to detain them for questioning, though, that had been a near thing. The three Templars that had approached them were part of a scouting party of six, three had gone to see about finding supplies, while their fellows checked on the tavern, and who might be staying there, it was those three that had encountered Dee and her party, and now, most likely, five of those six were either dead, or would so be.

The sixth was bound and travelling with them. A nicety for the chantry, from its loyal servant the Lady Alyce Moore, proof of her continued loyalty and fidelity to Andraste and the Maker.

Dee was grateful for such a boon, but the lives of the five that had been taken still bothered her, the rumors about the lady who took them bothered her.

Who knew what those men would face, and whatever it was, she doubted that it would be the Maker's justice.

"I'll be nearby when you wish to come back, lass," Kel promised her, "Just shout out, and I will see you safely back to camp."

"Thank you, Kell," she said with a hint of a smile, "I'll let you know when I'm ready."

"Yes, Milady," the dwarf replied, she heard his boot steps crunching in the snow.

Dee took a deep breath, taking in the cold night air. She turned her face into the wind, feeling it move her hair, the gentle kiss of snowflakes on her face, bringing back half-forgotten childhood memories.

 _Back when the world was simple, and she had two eyes to see it with. It was not something she lamented often, but there were times that she still thought about the past. What she had lost, the road not taken, or rather, the road ripped away beneath her feet._

Good times, or at least, that is how she remembered them now, times that would never come again, maturity and injury had robbed her of such simple joys, and now…

…there was no going back.

As she sat there, listening to the wind and the night time sounds, felt the brush of winter on her face. Her thoughts turned to Reaper, the things he must have endured since fleeing the Templar camp.

Those thoughts brought a frown to her face.

How had **he** endured the storm, she wondered; had he managed to find shelter, food, water? Had he endured as well as she had in Denerim, perhaps he had made it to civilization before the weather turned bad? Perhaps he was even now on his way to safety.

She sighed.

 _Do you still think about me_ , she wondered, _are you waiting to find your way back?_

 _Do you look up at the sky and wonder if I am looking up at it too? Have you forgotten me, and what we shared?_

She really did not want to think about that last part. She hoped that all was well with her partner, that after…so long apart, they were about to be reunited. Winter had brought the war to a pause, at least for now.

They would never have a better time to face it head on, to get out ahead of the violence, and find the path to peace. They had done amazing things together, Reaper and her.

Perhaps they could do amazing things again.

As she reflected on what had occurred, both recently, and in her past, she thought she heard footsteps approaching in the snow; the step was light, trying very hard not to be noticed. The wind came up, bringing a familiar scent.

Her blind eyes narrowed.

It was not someone she was eager to speak with, not right now. Yet, it seemed she had no choice.

She could not ignore what had happened.

"Hello, Andrea," she called out, "Is there something you need?"

The mage chuckled.

"Tis most disturbing that you knew it was me,' she responded.

"It is not hard," Dee said with a shrug, "I've come to recognize Charter by her approach. Rafe, too, considering he cannot stay quiet long enough to approach unnoticed. Kel is standing to my right, waiting for me to want to return to camp. By process of elimination, it could only be you."

"I could have been a bandit, perhaps some throat cutter seeking to win my weight in gold, by bringing the Templar commanders back a valuable prize?"

"Perhaps," Dee agreed, "But Kell likely would have warned me, and if by some miracle they got by him, the traps that Charter set around our camp are not easily bypassed, and even if such a person did."

Dee's expression turned colder. She thrust up her hand; a dagger sprang from her sleeve into her hand. She held it up; making sure that Andrea could see it.

"I'm far from defenseless," she reminded the mage.

"Tis a fact that I never doubted," the other woman assured her.

"A fact that you _**should**_ be aware of; given your decision to try and sneak up on me."

If Andrea took offense, she did not show it. Dee heard her draw even closer, though not too close, she realized, not while Dee still had a blade in her hand. Carefully, she let it slide back into its sheath, though she was not entirely happy with the mage that did not mean that she wished her ill, they were still allies after all.

She would never to anything to harm an ally.

"I did not wish to sneak up on you," Andrea said, finally coming to her side. "I was hoping we might have a chance to talk. It seems that you are still angry with me. T'would be best that we cleared the air before we continued on, don't you think?"

Dee tilted her head slightly, she was not angry, not in the usual sense, disappointed yes; wishing things could have been handled better. They had missed a golden opportunity she feared, a chance to speak plainly with the Templars, and gage their commitment to their war.

What Andrea had done had cost them that, Dee could not help but feel that the mage deserved, at least, some rebuke for what had happened. Though, to be honest, she was not quite sure what form the rebuke should take.

There had been a chance for disaster, the threat those men had posed had not been imagined, of course, there had also been an opportunity there.

If only she had been able to take advantage of it.

"I'm not angry with you," Dee promised her companion, "Though; I cannot deny that I feel that you could have handled what happened in Whitecrest better than you did."

"Should I have _**let**_ the Templars take you then?" she asked with a snort of disbelief, "What do you believe would have happened had we done such a thing?"

"I could have tried to speak with their leaders," Dee answered, "I could have spoken candidly with someone in charge. Who knows, I might have…"

"Gotten yourself tortured and killed," Andrea offered.

The sister's frown deepened.

"You think that it would have gone that far?"

"I _**know**_ that it would have gone that far, and in your heart of hearts, so do you."

Dee's brow furrowed.

She replayed the encounter over in her mind, just like she had done half a dozen times since it had happened.

Even now, she could not say that she was happy with the results.

IOI

"Didn't the Knight-Commander say something about finding some blind sister out of Denerim?"

It was with those words that their encounter with the Templars in Whitecrest started to take a dark turn. Yes, the men had swaggered up to their table, questioning what a chantry folk were doing travelling through Whitecrest?

It was not until they realized that she was blind, and had been in Denerim that things started to feel…threatening. Charter had reminded the men that they had no jurisdiction over the chantry, nor did they have the right to interfere in Chantry business, the Templar officer ignored both of those reminders. Kel had spoken up then making sure that the knights realized that Dee and her party were armed, they did not seem impressed or intimidated by that. When Rafe offered to bribe them, they threatened to see him gutted for trying to interfere, in Templar business. It was then that the tavern keeper called out, warning the men that if they tried anything in his establishment, he would summon the lady's men, promising that they would not like that.

Again, the Templars seemed oblivious, they were focused on Dee, and who she might be, compared to that, the threat of a noble's displeasure did not frighten them.

"It would be best that you come with us sister," the officer in charge said, "Our Knight-Commander is sure to have many questions for you."

Dee blinked; she felt Charter's hand on hers, a hand that was squeezing tight.

Clearly the elf did not like the idea of her going off with these men, but even she likely knew that they had little choice. Three fully armed Templars against their little group, plus more outside; it would not have been much of a fight. It had been then that Dee had started to think that she could speak with these men, perhaps even convince them to abandon this mad war, which the Lord Seeker had declared.

It was only then that Andrea spoke up, after that, things happened quickly.

"Is this how you show your power now, Templar," she had asked, "By threatening a sister of the chantry, and by threatening her fellows?"

The mage hissed under her breath.

"How strong the order has become?"

"Silence woman," the officer spat.

Andrea, of course, had not listened to him.

She was just getting started.

She criticized their manhood. She questioned the existence of their honor. Dee might have been blind, but she could feel the tension building. By the time the lady's men had arrived, the Templars were so angry and spoiling for a fight they did not hesitate to pull their blades on the town's protectors that had been a mistake.

No doubt the Templars had thought the men would back down when threatened, that is not what happened. The leader did not bother drawing her blade, he simply slammed his helmeted helm into the Templar officer's the man fell back into his fellows with a crash. There were shouts from outside, and a loud twanging sound, that Dee thought might be dwarven-made crossbows.

When all was said and done, only three of the Templars lived, and were now in the custody of the Whitecrest guards.

It was not a situation that they wanted to be in.

The officer spat angrily at his captors, saying that the knight-commander would hear of this. If the threat scared the guard he did not show it.

""You are going to see Lady Moore," he said, "You can complain to her if you like, not that it will do much good."

The man chuckled darkly.

"She likes men who are good with steel; she might just invite you to stay, who knows, you might decide to stay forever."

A shudder had run down Dee's spine then, what her companions had said about Lady Moore coming back to her.

Dee suspected that the woman would not be intimidated by the threat of some distant Knight-commander.

In fact, she wondered if the men would ever leave the lady's home.

If the stories were true, it would be unlikely.

Charter had spoken up then, since the men had been threatening her and her party, she wondered if the lady might consent to releasing one of the Templars into their custody.

"We have been receiving word of Templars raiding chantries," she informed the guard, "I'm certain the grand cleric would like to interview one of these men, find out if there is any truth to those stories."

The guard had been slow to agree, but when he did, he permitted Charter to take the officer's second in command with them.

"If this is your plan, rabbit," the guard had told Charter, "I think it best you leave quickly, in case these have friends, they might not be happy with you."

Charter agreed to do just that, the group had gathered their things and their bound prisoner, and were back on the round within ten minutes.

Charter pushed them hard, wishing to put as much distance between Whitecrest and them as possible.

It was shortly after dark that she had called a stop to their journey. After that they had set up their tents and settled in for the night.

This brought them to where they were now, Dee and Andrea talking quietly under the winter sky.

Contemplating what had happened, and how it could have been handled better.

IOI

"If your friend angered the Templars as much as we have heard, sister, then you certainly did not want to be taken into their custody. Trust someone who has been on the run from the order for the most of her life. "

The mage paused the, no doubt remembering many narrow escapes.

"The Templars already believe that the chantry is full of mage sympathizers, do you want to hear about what the Templars _**do**_ to mage sympathizers, much less one that is involved with someone they consider a serious threat?"

"I'm sure you have many frightening tales, Andrea," Dee said.

"Indeed I do, sister," she replied, "Made even more frightening, because each and every one is true."

Dee said nothing to that, during her travels with Reaper, he had described many abuses to her committed by renegade Templars.

No, Andrea did not need to tell her such tales, she had heard more than a few herself.

Still…it would have been nice to have gotten a chance to speak with someone high up in the order.

Who knew, she might just have convinced him to reconsider what was going on. It may not have been the most realistic of goals, but it was a hopeful one.

"They would have hurt you, used you as bait to capture your friend, this…Ser Reaper you are so obsessed with finding. Any conversation you would have had with one of the officers would have been very one sided, very one sided indeed."

"But there was still a chance," Dee said quickly, "I'm sure that not all of the Templars have completely abandoned their faith and duty. If I had gotten to speak with the right one…"

Andrea stopped her with an angry snort.

"Blood and spite, sister," she growled, "How can you be one of the sharpest people I've ever met and still be so blind," realizing exactly what she said the mage paused, or perhaps she noticed the look on Dee's face.

"Sorry," she added quickly.

Dee shrugged.

"It is no insult to call a blind woman blind, Andie."

"Perhaps," the mage agreed, "All I meant was; is that you _refuse_ to see things as they are. You still cling to the idea that the Templars _can_ and _should_ be brought back into the chantry fold. That dream is just that, a dream. I believe that things have gone too far for that, a belief that you would be wise to adopt as well."

"So, I should just give up on hope then?" she asked.

"Hope is all well and good, but a dose of realism could not hurt either. Tell me, sister, after everything that has happened, do you think that the Templars could ever simply return to their old roles without being force to do so. They have had their way for years, until your Divine reminded them of their place in things, and what is their first response, to rebel. Such men and women will never willingly accept their role as servants again, not after all this, not after what their leaders have promised them."

"If you truly believe that," Dee said with a frown, then why are you helping us? It is clear that you have no love for the Divine or the chantry?"

"Why? Tis simple, the chantry is familiar, I may not be overly fond of it, but at least it knows how to keep the wheels turning. The Templars would see the world turned into one massive army camp, dedicated to the stamping out of magic. The mage circles would not know what to do with true freedom, not even if they had it handed to them on a silver plate. Both sides have spent so much time locked in their towers and chantries that they have no idea how the world truly works, so much so that everyone outside their world gets caught in the crossfire of their war, and suffers because of it."

The mage sighed heavily.

"If the Templars win, magic will be exterminated, if the mages win, they will scatter, unsure of how to proceed, torn between building something new or revenge, eventually a strong man, probably from Tevinter will take charge, and the mages will see what he offers as an excuse to settle scores, and once again, everyone will suffer. I support the one side that at least offers the chance to come out of this standing when all is said and done, that is yours."

Dee considered what was said, Andrea brought up some very good points. Who knew what would come to pass if the chantry fell apart. Could the mages govern themselves, sure, but that did not mean that they would be able to govern everything else. The same went for the Templars. If they had their independence, what would stop them from wanting more, perhaps they might even come to think that they both deserved and should replace the ruling class of Thedas, it sounded crazy, but then again these were crazy times.

Who knew what would happen when the war resumed in the spring.

"So the chantry should trust no one?" she asked.

"You should trust yourselves, seek out new allies, but be ready for treachery. Faith and prayer alone will not protect everything you hold dear; you will need to be ready to fight violence and fear, **with** violence and fear. Violence…fear…and power."

"Well…this sounds like and interesting conversation."

Andrea paused; Rafe had joined them while they had been talking.

"Yes, Rafe?" Dee asked.

"Charter is getting ready to interrogate the Templar," he informed her, "Thought you might want to listen in."

Dee nodded.

Yes, she thought, that could be most enlightening.

She called out for Kell who took her arm and led her back to camp. Rafe walked on ahead, while Andrea fell in step beside Dee.

"Remember my words," she said, "This Templar will show you just how far the order has fallen."

Dee nodded.

She did not need to hear this interrogation to know that. She and Reaper had seen plenty of evidence during their travels that suggested just that.

Andie is not wrong, she thought, the only question that remained, if she was ready to take that next step. She still had faith in the chantry, hope that they could solve this men and that everything would work out.

First, however, they needed to get through this war, which meant learning more about the order, and its plans.

How far am I willing to go? Dee asked herself, the answer. As far as it took.

She would listen as Charter interrogated their prisoner, and if he chose to lie or play games, well…

Perhaps it would be necessary to shed some of her naivety. For the chantry, for Reaper, she was prepared to do that.

How far am I willing to go? I will go as far as I must.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.


	35. Interrogation

**Chapter 35: Interrogation**

" **NOOOOOOO!"**

Dee could not see the man's face, look into his eyes, but that did not mean that she could not imagine what he looked like at that moment. The horror, the pain in the man's voice painted a good picture. Wild eyes, blazing with panic, struggling futilely against the bonds they had secured him with. In that moment the Templar they had captured was gone, and in his place now stood a terrified tortured animal, and animal that was only now starting to realize just how bad things could get, and how worse they might become.

Sister Daelle might have felt sorry for him once, she just might have, but in that moment, after all the resistance the man had given them. She was starting to realize that Andrea was not entirely wrong. If the chantry was to survive this war, they needed to be more willing to do what was needed to defeat their enemies. They could not forget who they were, true, but that did not mean that they shouldn't be prepared to do what was needed to turn things back on the right course.

She felt pity for the poor man, true, but that did not mean that she was sorry. Andrea was right about what thing, this _**was**_ war.

And the chantry needed to get down to basic, and try to win it.

The Templar was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. Charter had secured him well before beginning this interrogation; they did not want the man trying to either escape or attack them until after they heard what they needed to know.

"We do not want to do this, Ser," she heard Charter say to the man, "simply tell us what we want to know, and this will stop."

"You bitches will pay for this," the man spat back, "DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU KNIFE-EAR WHORE! **WE** WILL MAKE YOU **PAY!"**

Dee heard Charter hiss under her breath.

"Apparently, you are not ready to talk yet. Rafe if you please."

Dee heard the sound of glass breaking, the sound of a small vial cracking under the strain of being thrown down hard."

Again the Templar wailed, the sound sent a shudder down Dee's spine, but she dared not submit to her gentler emotions.

They needed to know what was going on, what this man's branch of the order was up to.

This was the way to get that information.

Perhaps…it was the only way.

IOI

The Templar had been bound and gagged since they had left the village. Charter did not know if the Templars had stationed any reinforcements outside of the village proper, and she had no desire for the man to call for help and bring down even more trouble upon them. Using the man's own horse, they made their way quickly beyond the gates of Whitecrest. The Templar, Ser Giles, as Dee had heard the man's fellows call him was not very cooperative, twice he tried to escape, and twice he had been dragged back. After the last attempt, Charter warned the man that and further attempts to flee would be met with the harshest of consequences.

He did not seem that intimidated, but at least he made no further attempts to escape.

The man's arrogance had shown like a beacon as they began their interrogation of him. He admitted that he was a member of Knight-Commander Martel's command, but nothing else. He also seemed to think that when the lady of Whitecrest finished with his friends that they would be coming after him, and would therefore, punish the chantry's servants for taking him prisoner.

Rafe informed the man not to hold his breath, if half the tales he had heard about the lady were true, it was very likely that Ser Giles would never see his fellows again.

Which…might be for the best, Dee reasoned. It might have seemed harsh, but would be safer for them as they continued to make their way towards Haven. Charter promised the man that he would not be harmed, provided that he told them everything he knew about Martel's plans as the rogue Templar moved forward. The Marcher Templars had been quiet since they had been forced out of their holdings in the north. Amaranthine and Highever were once again free, and Martel's loyalists had scattered following an attack on their camp by the mages. Most might believe that such setbacks would have ended Martel's ambitions right there, Charter was not one of them. The elf believed that the Marchers and their allies still had some tricks up their sleeves.

She hoped to find out what those were, and where the order intended to go from here.

Ser Giles, of course, was having none of it. He practically laughed in Charter's face. He did not believe the chantry's servants had it within them to do what was truly necessary to gain the information that they needed, and at the same time, believed he was more than up to the challenge of resisting whatever…means of persuasion that the Nightingale's agents could dream up.

Dee sat back and listened as the man spouted his venom at her allies. She had remained silent to this point, thinking, trying to come up with a way to get through this, and come up with the best way to deal with their unwilling guest. The man's attitude was not that different from other rogue Templars that she and Reaper had faced in the past. The paladin had gotten what he needed to know out of those men, by a mixture of strength, and his own personal power. The ability to make the lyrium in the blood of a Templar burn had often been more than enough to convince an arrogant fool into giving up his secrets and confessing his sins.

Dee purses her lips, her brow furrowed in thought.

She could not do what her partner could; she had no special power over Templar or mage. Yet, she did have the benefit of experience. She had travelled with Reaper for so long that she understood how her lost partner thought.

 _How would you deal with this Reaper,_ she thought to herself.

 _What would you do?_

"Let's strip him naked and tie him to a tree for the night," Rafe offered, "The cold should loosen his tongue, if he lasts the first few hours."

"Why wait," Andrea said, "I know a spell or three that will make the man beg to tell us everything he knows."

"I know a few Carta tricks that might work," Kel offered, "I saw one of the bosses get a man to talk after only an hour of…convincing."

"I'm not quite ready to result to the methods of a common leg breaker, dwarf," charter responded, her voice thick with distaste.

"It was only then that Dee offered her solution, a solution that even Reaper might have been proud of.

"Search his saddle bags," she said, "You should find a small wooden box there, please bring it to me."

"What are you doing!? She heard the Templar shout, "Stay out of there you thieves!"

Charter did not deem to respond to his words, instead she found the box that Dee had mentioned; she brought it back to the sister and placed it in her lap.

Dee ran her fingers over the smooth wooden lid, she felt a symbol carved into it, her fingers traced the outline of it.

She smiled.

The mark of the dwarven mining guild, excellent, she thought.

She had found what she had hoped for.

"What is that?" Andrea asked.

"Come see for yourself," Dee offered.

She let the mage take the box; she heard a gentle click as Andrea undid the lock.

The other woman laughed when she looked inside.

"GET AWAY FROM THAT!" the Templar shouted his voice cracking.

"THAT IS MINE!"

"Is it," Andrea asked in a silky voice, "You must be quite rich, indeed, ser. I haul like this would fetch…oh…I don't know, ten to fifteen sovereigns on the black market."

The mention of money made Rafe perk up, or at least Dee thought it did.

"What is it?" the Rivaini asked, curious as to what the sister had found.

"How did you know this would be here, Dee?" Andrea asked.

The sister shrugged.

"I spent two years travelling with Reaper. We met with many Templars during that time, and they always carried a box like that with them."

She smiled slightly.

"A philter breaks quite easily; no Templar would risk it being damaged during his travels."

It was then that Charter realized what they had found.

"Lyrium," she said, "There is lyrium in that case?"

"Indeed, elf, indeed," Andrea said, "twelve doses, I think."

Dee heard a sniffing sound, followed by a snort of surprise.

"Blood and spite," the mage murmured.

"What is it?" Dee asked.

"See for yourself," her friend offered, "Sniff this, sister."

She felt Andrea's hand on her shoulder, she leaned forward; the mage was holding something just under her nose.

Dee sniffed.

"Maker's breath!" she gasped shaking her head.

The sister's eyes watered, her nose burned with even the barest smell of the substance, it made her feel a little dizzy.

"Easy there," Andrea said, she used her hand to steady the sister/

The mage chuckled.

"Strong is it not?" she said, "Stronger than the typical Templar would carry, and I should know, I've raided Templar corpses before. This is far better than the watered down swill that your typical knight would carry."

Dee shook her head again.

Andraste's mercy, she thought...

 _Templars actually drink_ _ **that?!**_

Charter spoke up again, her voice far colder than it was before.

"Is this the going price of your loyalty, Templar," she demanded, "Is this what you and the others traded your faith for, a stronger dose of lyrium from your commanders, something strong to fill your philter? Is that all it took to get you to betray the vows you gave to Andraste and the Maker?"

The man did not reply; Dee could imagine him just sitting there in a sullen silence.

Dee's unseeing eyes narrowed.

That would not do, not anymore!

"Andie," she said, "Would you hand me one of the vials?"

Dee held out her hand, she felt something smooth and warm being placed in her palm.

"Hard to believe something so small could be so valuable," Andrea said, "Most people wouldn't…"

Dee threw the vial down, she heard it hit, but not break; she fixed that by bringing a booted foot down on it.

The vial popped in the snow.

The Templar screamed in horror.

For the briefest of moments, there was a pause, her allies, perhaps shocked by what Dee had just done.

"There are eleven doses left, ser," Dee said coldly, "I've never seen the effects of lyrium withdrawal, but I hear it is quite horrible."

Dee turned her head towards the sounds of the Templars struggles.

"You _**will**_ talk," she said, "If not, you will feel just how horrible that withdrawal is. Now good ser, answer Charter's questions. What is your order planning?"

There was a pained cry, almost a whimper from where the Templar was bound.

Dee shivered.

This is better than hurting him, she thought, and will likely get us results far more quickly.

He will talk, or he will suffer.

It is his choice.

She heard another vial break. Again the man cried out, a cry that made Dee shudder.

Harsh she thought, very harsh, but necessary.

We are at war.

We need to try and win it.

She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, Andrea leaning forward.

"Well played, sister," the mage purred wickedly.

"Well played."

"We will see," she murmured.

"We will see."

She thought the man would talk before he lost three of his precious vials. As it turned out, he needed to lose six.

What he had to say shocked Dee to her core.

IOI

"HAVEN!" the Templar cried, "Knight-Commander Martel marches on Haven."

"Lies," Charter hissed, "What good would Haven be to your Commander?"

"I heard the officers talking," the man gasped, "We…we heard reports, word from spies in the Frostbacks. The mages have taken the village of Haven, they are using as a winter camp. They retreated there after their attack on us."

"Why did we not hear about this," Charter asked him, "There are dozens of priests and knights in Haven, word would have reached us?"

"Ser Chadwick said something about blood magic, the priests and knights being under mage control," the man snarled the last part, the hatred for blood magic the chantry had inspired in him shining through.

Dee blinked, hoping against hope that the man was lying, he had to be lying.

Haven had been taken by blood mages!

It sounded so fantastic, but…but…

She gasped.

Reaper was heading there! If he arrived and there were blood mages there…?

"Have they begun the march?" Charter asked Ser Giles, "How far are your people from Haven?"

"I don't know," the Templar said, his voice sounding more smug now that his lyrium was no longer being threatened. "Me and mine were told to watch the road, looking for any mages or chantry folk that might have some information about Haven. We…"

He stopped talking; suddenly she heard the man chuckle.

"You look scared you blind bitch," he spat at Dee, " _You_ have friends in that village. Robes have probably killed them all by now, if they haven't given them to the demons, they…"

There was a loud cracking sound. Dee blinked.

"What was that," she shouted, "What happened?"

She heard Charter sigh.

"Kell hit him," the elf said, "He is unconscious."

Dee cursed under her breath.

It seems that their trip to Haven had just become a bit more complicated. Of course, there was a chance that the Templar was lying, that is was all some ruse to justify and attack on chantry holding.

"Charter come," she said, "We need to speak privately."

"Yes, sister," the agent said, coming to her side, Dee held out her hand, so that Charter could take it, so that she could lead her to a place where they could speak without any prying ears.

Dee shook her head.

Charter and her fellow agents knew Haven better than anyone else, even those that lived there.

She hoped the elf might be able to offer her some words of comfort.

Haven could not have fallen, it could not.

If it had, Reaper was likely walking into a trap; she could imagine what a group of rebel mages would do to him, a warrior of the faith, if they captured him. If this was some kind of ruse, and Reaper arrived after the Templars, he would be walking back into their hands, a camp of angry warriors who no doubt blamed him for the failures they had suffered.

She could imagine just what kind of welcome **they** would have for him.

She did not wait until they were far enough away from camp, she couldn't wait, this was too important.

"Is it possible," she asked the agent, "Could the Templars or mages take Haven?"

"We have warriors there," Charter reminded her, "They would not give up without out a fight."

"That is not what I asked," Dee hissed, "I asked if it was possible?"

Charter fell silent, thinking perhaps. When she answered, it did little to expel Dee's fear.

"Haven's isolation has always been its defense, that and the forest. It has no real wall, no defenses, no trebuchets or ballistae. A determined force could take it, if they knew the path."

Dee shivered.

 _How many Templars had visited Haven in the last few years, how many had gone off and joined their rogue brothers when the war began?_

 _Too many_ , she thought, _**far**_ _too many._

"What are we going to do?" she asked the elf.

"If the village has fallen, we cannot trust any communication coming out of it. We will need to get word to the Nightingale, and any other agents in the surrounding area, they could confirm if the village has been taken over."

Dee nodded, it sounded like a good plan, but that did not do anything for Reaper.

If he arrived, and the village had fallen…?

"We can't simply turn around," Dee said, "We have to push forward; we might be able to arrive before the Templars or mages, if the weather holds…"

"If the weather holds, the village might already have fallen by the time we arrive," the elf sighed.

Dee fought the urge to curse.

This could not be the end of it.

There had to be something they could?

"Could we bypass the road," she asked Charter, "Sneak into the village through the wilderness?"

"Maybe," the elf said, "But it would be tough jaunt, and this lot travelling with us doesn't strike me as natural woodsmen. We would need a huntsman, someone who knew how to survive in the Ferelden wilderness, an expert, and even then…"

Dee nodded. It would be a tough journey, but she had made tough journeys before, as for an expert, they could stop in Redcliffe, but could such a person be trusted, perhaps there they could…

Dee blinked; a thought occurred to her, it was on the brink of madness but…

She smiled.

"How far are we from the Brecilian forest?" she asked.

"Few days journey," the elf said, "why?"

"What about birds? Could we send a message?'

"Not from here," the elf said, "In the next town maybe."

"To Gwaren, perhaps?"

"Perhaps, what are you thinking, sister?"

Dee grinned.

"Gwaren would be closer," she said, "I need to get a letter to someone in the village of Forest's End. Hopefully, he is still there."

"Hopefully," the elf asked, "Who do you want to contact?"

"A friend," Dee said.

"Someone who should have no problem navigating the wilderness, in fact he is quite comfortable in it.

"For him, it is home."


	36. The Prisoner

**Chapter 36: The Prisoner**

"Your abilities are impressive, boy. Yet, they will not save you. Everything you possess, everything you try to horde for yourself will soon belong to the mage rebellion."

The Enchanter smirked down at him. Reaper no longer struggled in his bonds, he knew that was useless.

These mages were nothing if not crafty. They had laid their trap so carefully; he had not even realized that he was in danger until it was too late.

He had had so little time to fight, so little time to resist. He had shouted for Kess to run, run and find help, and turned to cover her escape. That battle had not lasted long, not against three senior enchanters…

…And that is how the paladin ended a prisoner of the mage rebellion, or rather…some offshoot of it.

He glared up at the enchanter; Allard was the man's name. Dark of hair with the oiled mustache that one expected from a noble in the imperial court, whether the man was truly Orlesian, the paladin could not say. His accent suggested time in Orlais, but that did not mean much, considering how often the Circle shifted its mages around, especially in the last few years. The Knight Commanders had tried to separate the troublemakers from their followers, or vice versa, of course, sometimes that backfired, and the mage ended up recruiting even more lackeys.

Reaper shook his head.

It was clear that not all mages were as… _principled_ as Kess. Some had agendas not so different from the very Templars they now resisted.

Arrogance was, after all, not simply a Templar trait.

IOI

The journey to Haven had taken far longer than expected, made even more so, by the weather that continued to threaten their path. Reaper had tried to be smart about it, giving the king's road a wide berth, staying to the green wood and wild places where ever he could.

Kess said nothing about their passage. If the mage felt any discomfort she chose not to show it. She simply followed his lead, and did what she could to aid them.

"It may be slower going," he had informed her, "But at least we should arrive at the village safely. When we do, leave the talking to me. The priests and knights of Haven know me, I'm sure they will be more than willing to grant you sanctuary."

"I will trust your judgment on this matter, ser," she had said dutifully, every inch the proper mage she claimed to be. "When we reach the village, I shall follow your lead."

Reaper had nodded, grateful for her willingness to trust him on this, of course, after what they had shared, why would she not?

 _It was not like they were still strangers, not after those long dark nights in their cabin._

Not that the mage showed it of course, since leaving that place, she had not spoken once of their time there. She did not even bring up what they shared.

The thought puzzled him, though perhaps, that made no sense.

Had she not told him that what they had shared had been simple comfort, and nothing more? She had warned him had she not, had she not told him that she did not expect more than what they had shared during those dark and cold nights? She had certainly not asked any more of him since their return to the road, had not sought out his warmth, or his bedroll. Part of him started to doubt what had happened, perhaps it had been some dark fantasy brought on by the cold and intimacy of their situation.

Then again…was he really so different than her? When he did think about what happened, when he pictured what had taken place, it was not Kess' face that sprang to mind.

The paladin shook his head.

It was Dee, it was always Dee. When he thought about the cabin, it was **she** that he pictured. It was she that he desired, that he craved. It was wrong of course, knowing Dee the way he did, knowing about her vows. What he wished, what he wanted…it was impossible. Yet, he could not deny that desire, and as time when on, it was only growing.

The realization did not please him.

It seemed that Kess had awakened something within him, something that was not denied easily, something that did not wish to go back to sleep.

Any thought of Dee now seemed to feed that beast, the desire growing within him. Even the memory of her most innocent of touches excited him now.

The predator had tasted blood, it seems, and now, it desired more.

He tried to put such thoughts out of his mind. What had happened had happened. He could not change that, even if wanted to.

For now they needed to focus on reaching Haven, and avoid any Templar patrols while doing so. Even if they were not Martel's men, any patrol was likely to take exception to his travelling with a mage. In fact, Reaper had no idea what had become of Knight-Commander Martel and his forces, but whatever had happened, he doubted the man would look favorably on the one who had caused so much difficulty for his plans.

No, the paladin thought to himself.

It would be best that I stay as far away from Martel and his lieutenants as possible. He did not doubt for a moment that they would hold a grudge, and likely go to any length to pursue it.

So for now, he would avoid any Templar patrol.

It was safer that way.

They bypassed Redcliffe completely, choosing to remain on the outskirts, not wishing to be spotted by any roving Templars or spies of the order. The closest they came to civilization during that time was a brief stop at the crossroads in the Hinterlands, where they spent the night in the company of a trading caravan.

Though they had not discussed it before hand, Kess had come up with a story to tell the merchants. She was simply a travelling pilgrim on her way to Haven. To the travelers, the pair was just a pilgrim whose son had agreed to accompany her on this journey.

The story surprised Reaper, the thought of him being the mage's son didn't seem right. She did not seem old enough to be the mother of an adult child. Of course, the more he thought about it, he realized that had Kess had a child in her teens, it is likely they would be around his age by now.

Still, the story felt strange to him, especially after their time in the cabin. Kess had not seemed like a motherly figure then. What they had shared was not…

He shook his head.

Nope, he thought, best not to go there.

He tried not to think about it.

His thoughts returned to Dee. He had been so close, so many times to reaching a chantry and leaving a message behind, this time he was determined to not let the chance go to waste. Barrowing a piece of parchment, quill, and ink, he penned a letter to his partner, leaving it in the hands of one of the trader's hirelings with orders to see it a safely to the chantry, and a silver to seal the deal.

He was careful enough to use one of Leliana's cyphers. To one untrained in them, the letter would appear to be nothing more than a knight writing to an old friend in the chantry. If Dee heard it however, she would recognize the safe phrases, and be able to decode the message. She would know he was alive and on his way to Haven.

The thought made him smile.

Who knew, she might already **be** there. Had Leliana recalled her after the accident, she might have guessed that he would return to Haven.

The thought of seeing her again…it made him happier than he liked to admit. It had been too long since they had parted...

…far too long.

The threat of snow once again slowed their progress. They found the path, but Reaper still kept one eye to the skies. They were committed now, and there were no shelters along this leg of the path, if another storm did come up, they would be stuck in it and this far up in the mountains that could be a death sentence.

Fortunately, the weather held off, and Reaper led his charge along the route that led to the village of Haven.

Kess grew nervous the closer they came to the village. She feared what the chantry forces that held Haven would say or do when they realized who and what she was.

Reaper did his best to dispel that fear. These were good people, he promised her.

They would not make any rash judgment.

As the first hints of a village came into view, the pair was set upon by a pair of sentries. Reaper called out to them, letting them know he was a friend and was bringing someone in seeking protection.

The guards responded by drawing their blades. Reaper had only just started to repeat his hail when they attacked him. Kess had been so surprised that she had not even tried to raise a defensive shield. It was then that the mages who had posted these guards got involved. That was how Reaper discovered that Haven had been taken over by the mage rebellion.

That was how he had come to realize that he had walked into a trap.

He screamed for Kess to flee while he engaged the attackers. His blade cut down both of the sentries, and he called on the fires within him to burn away two of the mages. It was then that the rest fell upon him, drawn by the sounds of fighting and guards call for help.

After that, the battle was over. Reaper was good, but he was not that good.

The mages overwhelmed him, and he found himself falling into darkness.

IOI

He awoke in the cells beneath Haven's chantry. His arms bound behind his back and his head swimming from the effect of some drug or spell. His interrogator, the mage Allard was there, ready with his questions, and more than eager to gloat over what had transpired.

The former was an annoyance, the latter was far more useful than the mage realized. Reaper had had no idea who had taken him prisoner when he had first waked in that cell, now…he knew much about his captors.

That knowledge might be useful later on.

"I've been around Templars all my life, boy," Allard snarled, "I've seen Templar abilities. I know what the order can do. What you possess, what I've heard from the priests we have questions. You…you are something else entirely.

He sneered like some Orlesian villain in a Ferelden made mummers show.

"I will have the secrets of this magic you wield, and I will have them now."

The paladin shrugged, not an easy thing when he was bound up like he was.

"If you have spoken to the priests that know of me, than you know that what I wield is no mere magic, they were born of the flames that shielded Andraste's ashes. It was a miracle, not magic."

The mage slapped him across the face.

"Liar," he spat, "I do not believe such drivel. Your chantry has long bound us, hid your true power behind superstition and ritual, no more I say, no more."

Allard leaned in close.

"We will drag your secrets into the light, and then make them our own. The time of the chantry is over; the age of the free mage…has begun."

Again Reaper shrugged.

So much for being reasonable, he thought. Enchanter Allard was proving to be more than paranoid. He had spent as much time ranting at Reaper has he trying to extract information from him. How much of that ranting was true, the paladin could not say, all he could do was listen, and wait for the right opportunity.

Hopefully, it was come soon.

The mages that had claimed Haven called themselves the three liberators. Allard along with his partners Saera, Gimmel, had taken command of this group shortly after the incident at the white spire and the emptying of the circles. According to Allard, he and his two friends were the only true mages fighting for their independence in Ferelden, while the rest of them rallied around Grand Enchanter Fiona, he and his fellow libertarians had decided to take the fight directly to their chantry foes.

And yes, Allard did believe that their enemy in this war was the chantry. He did not believe that the Seekers and Templars had left the Divine's side, to him; it was all a ruse to justify further Templar brutality while dealing with the Circles once and for all.

Reaper had tried to inform him that this simply wasn't the case, but again the mage's paranoia got the best of him. He would not hear any Templar lies, he had heard them his entire life.

He would not listen to such talk again.

As the interrogation continued, Reaper learned what had happed since these mages had arrived.

The Three Liberators had already been marching on Haven when the blizzard that had trapped Reaper and Kess came down out of the Frostbacks. The mages and their allies had arrived to find the village all but abandoned, the bulk of the people taking shelter up in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The few that had remained had offered little resistance, not that they had had much of chance. The village's defenses were minimal, meant to keep out wildlife; not determined attackers.

So Haven had fallen, but not the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

For days now the mages had been seeking a way to breach the temple. Threatening the lives of their hostages, yet unwilling to harm them, fearing that a Templar army was likely holding the temple, an army that would fall upon them if they used up their only bargaining chips.

The liberators had come here to seize the Ashes of Andraste. Like Allard, they refused to believe that the ashes were no longer here. They did not understand or accept that the guardian had taken them away.

Unable to attack and unwilling to retreat, the mages started sending out birds to the main force of the mage rebellion, requesting reinforcements to help finish securing their prize. So far, they had received no response. This did little to improve either the morale or the patience of Allard and his allies.

Something that Reaper was experiencing first hand. He had the bruises to show it.

The Enchanter paced before his prisoner, his hands behind his back, Reaper could hear the man muttering under his breath, perhaps trying to think of a new lever to pull.

"Your resistance is futile," the mage said, "The mages have the power to fell entire armies. Any rescue attempt will fail, you must understand this."

Reaper said nothing. If the mages were united, sure, what the Enchanter said was true, but he did not see that, not with this group. The three liberators had more in common with Knight-Commander Martel and his sycophants. They had moved without the order or blessing of their fellows, now they were stuck, their heads beneath the chopping blade.

It was only a matter of time now, either the chantry or the Templars would eventually bring that blade down.

Then this lot would realize how far they gone astray.

"The Divine is merciful Enchanter," Reaper finally said, "She would offer asylum and protection for your followers; all you have to do is ask."

The mage laughed at that.

"Protection? Yes, I'm sure the old bitch would happily offer us protection, once we marched back to the Circles with our tails between our legs. No, ser, no, we are done with chantry mercy."

The man's eyes flashed with anger.

"We will have our freedom, even if we have to pull your chantry down brick by brick. We will bury your precious ashes beneath the ruins of your temple, and the entire world will know that the chantry no longer holds the fate of the mages in its hands, this is our world now, and we shall claim it."

The paladin sighed.

"Even if you beat the Templars…"

"We don't have to beat your tin soldiers, we have to beat **you**."

"Even if you beat us," Reaper interrupted, "The nobles of Thedas will not accept what you are trying to do. You will find yourselves in an even larger war. Your people will be outnumbered a hundred to one."

Allard seemed to consider that, briefly perhaps, but at least he was considering it.

Then it was gone, the mask of cold arrogance returned to the mage's face.

"We will crush anyone who tries to cage us again. Anders was right; better that we die on our feet that live on our knees."

The paladin's eyes narrowed.

Yes, he thought, that idea worked out so well for the mage Anders didn't it?

He is living so happily now, is he not?

"The longer you wait, boy," Allard informed him, "the less likely your chances of surviving this become. We do not wish to kill you all, but we will if we have no choice."

"There is always a choice, Enchanter," Reaper reminded him, "You just need to make the right one."

Frustrated by his prisoner the mage turned to leave, his cloak sweeping behind him like the villain he was pretending to be. Reaper was not surprised. The truth could be as painful as it was frustrating.

Frustration could be useful, if properly used.

Reaper decided to try for one last bit of information, the man's anger might just be high enough that would let something slip.

"My companion," he said, "Has there been any word of her?"

Allard paused, perhaps trying to turn the question to his advantage.

"The snows have returned," the mage said, "If your friend is still out there she is as good as dead. If the cold does not get her, the wildlife will."

He turned with a cruel smile.

"No one of the chantry could survive out there. Yet, you sent her away, her death is on your conscience, boy, remember that."

The mage laughed.

"Perhaps we will have her frozen body for you when we speak next. In the meantime realize that what happens is all **your** fault. Any blood that is spilt here will be on your hands. Remember that, Templar. Remember that."

The man spat on the floor and left, taking the only torch with him, leaving Reaper in darkness.

Not so unlike Dee, he reasoned.

Lost in darkness, but even here, hope remained.

The paladin sighed.

Allard might be a powerful mage, but he lacked in matters of interrogation. It would have been wiser to have told him nothing about Kess, let his imagination run wild with what could be happening to her. The fact that the mages had not found her was…hopeful.

It seems that Allard did not even realize that she as a mage. That could be useful, of course, for that to be the case, she would need to find her way back into the village, and if she did…there was no guarantee that Allard and the others would accept her.

He had shouted for her to run, to try and find help. If she made it out of the mountain paths, then there was a chance she could have made it back to Redcliffe, Redcliffe and the chance to get help.

If she did or not, he could not say, he simply had to have faith.

Kess was a resourceful woman.

He did not think she would abandon him.

She would be back.

Yes, she would be back.


	37. The Deal

**Chapter 37: The Deal**

"Haven shall be reclaimed, Sister, and once the battle is done, both the village and the temple…shall be mine."

Sister Daelle blinked; no one could see it of course, since her blind eyes were once again covered with a silken scarf, but…

It took all of her self-control, and her training by the Nightingale, not to show any disbelief, any sense of outrage.

 _The nerve of this man_ , she thought, _**the gall!**_

She stood behind Leliana, her mentor had arrived in Redcliffe several days before Dee and the rest of her party had. Both the sister and Charter had sent off birds to chantry, asking the Nightingale's advice on how they should deal with the knowledge of a group of apostates seizing the holy temple and the village beneath it. It was likely that Leliana had never seen those messages because both were sent to contacts in Orlais, and to the surprise of both Dee and Charter, the Nightingale was not even in Orlais. It appears that she had been in Ferelden for some time, and neither woman had known it

 _Such was the ways of their leader,_ though Dee was still not pleased to know that her mentor had been so close yet chose to remain so silent.

She had faced much in the past few months. She could have used her teacher's guidance. To know that Leliana had been so close, that she had kept her silence while her student suffered.

It was not what she expected of the woman who had saved her.

It was not the way of the woman who had first put her on this path.

IOI

Dee had arrived in Redcliffe with the beginnings of a plan taking shape in her mind. She hoped to receive an answer to the letter she had sent off to Forest's End, and in the meantime, intended to use Charter and her contacts to rally more loyal people to their cause. It would not be difficult, she thought, though she loathed doing it, she suspected that there were many among the faithful that would not stand idle when they learned that the temple of Sacred Ashes was being threatened by Apostates. It is not what Justinia wanted. The Most Holy desired to restore peace, to build bridges between the wayward mages, Templars, and the chantry that had once sheltered both. No she stood poised to make the mages look like the enemies of Thedas, again.

The thought did not please it.

It is a very Templar thing to do, she realized, but in face of having no army to call on, she believed that she had few options. Once Haven was free, and the apostates were driven out, she could go back to trying to build the bridges that the Divine desired.

She intended to use the Redcliffe Chantry as a base while she prepared her plans. The others could see to their business while she disappeared among the sisters living here. She had grown far too well known in the last few weeks and now wished to regain some of her anonymity.

Charter and Rafe both had contacts that could prove useful in finding the supplies they needed. It was through them that their prisoner, Ser Giles, was stored away for safe keeping, just in case they needed more information from him. Andrea, with her links to the mage collective might be able to give them an idea of exactly what was waiting for them in Haven. If and when Gray Eyes arrived they would have the means of making their way through the wilderness, hopefully undetected.

It was not much of a plan she realized, but it was starting to take shape.

As it turns out, she need not have bothered.

The group was met at the village gates by the Arl's men. The soldiers who stopped then addressed bot her and Charter by name, and asked them to come with them. Not wishing to cause any trouble with the rule of Redcliffe, the group had submitted without resistance. They arrived to find both Arl Teagan and Sister Leliana waiting for them. As a favor to Leliana, and old friend from the days of the Blight, the Arl offered them his protection and hospitality while they planned their next move.

Dee had been surprised to see her mentor here, though perhaps she should not have. Charter had been saying for weeks how Leliana had greatly expanded her network of agents and informers. It was no surprise that the Nightingale had gotten here a few steps ahead of them.

When Martel and a delegation of his Templars showed up under a banner of truce, Leliana agreed to hear the man out. After all, the Divine still desired to restore the peace between the chantry and the Templars, perhaps this was the first logical step.

Arl Teagan offered the two the use of his solar, and so the Knight-Commander and the Left Hand of the Divine met to discuss this matter, a matter that Dee felt the Martel and his men had no stake in, and should have no stake.

The Divine may have hoped to open negotiations with the Templars, but in Dee's mind, this was clearly not the way to do it.

As she listened to the man speak, she realized that that was not going to happen, he was not interested in returning to the chantry. Martel had his own ambitions, ambitions that he would not let go of so quickly.

As Dee listened a bad feeling formed in her gut.

 _This would not go well,_ she thought.

 _No, it would not go well at all._

IOI

"That is…an _ambitious_ request, Knight-Commander," Leliana said to their Templar guest. "Haven is most valued to the faithful; pilgrims have been seeking it out for almost ten years."

"All the more reason to trust the Templars to protect it," Martel responded, his voice thick with the Templar pride that Dee had heard in many that she and Reaper had faced in the past few years. She knew what that pride could hide, the ambition; the unchecked lust for power.

If Dee had learned anything in her travels is it that when a Templar wants something, it usually has nothing to do with the faith.

"The chantry is without a military force," The Knight-Commander continued, "It is no surprise that the apostates that now ravage this land would take advantage of that weakness."

The man laughed lightly.

"I'm willing to place my own battle plans aside, for now. Grant me the title of Lord Protector of Haven, and my men and I will hold it in stewardship until this chaos has passed, and the mage rebellion at last been brought to heel."

"And what of the hostages," Leliana inquired, "The priests, and scholars that were in Haven when the mages attacked. What happens to them when you aid us in…. _reclaiming_ Haven."

"They will be allowed to continue as they have," Martel promised, "They will be allowed to continue their work under my stewardship and protection. I see no reason to deny them their search for knowledge."

Dee frowned.

 _Or your need for hostages,_ she thought to herself, _those poor people would exchange one captor for another._

She did not see the difference. Martel and his men were little different than the apostates who took Haven. Neither side was taking orders from their superiors. She doubted that Martel had consulted Lord Seeker Lucius before making this offer, just as she doubted that the mages who had taken Haven had consulted Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Martel was ambitious, make no mistake about that, and was far more tenacious then she would have given him credit for. The loss of his holdings in the north should have ended his adventures in Ferelden, yet here he was again, still seeking to win a major victory, and put his name on the face of history.

Taking the Temple of Sacred Ashes, securing it for the Templar order would do that.

Letting the man have Haven…she did not like the idea at all; of course, it was not her decision in the end.

That decision belonged to the Divine, and for the moment was in the hands of the Nightingale.

"Your offer is…enticing Knight-Commander," the Left Hand of the Divine said, "Though I must admit, I find your choice to come before us surprising. Clearly you have the manpower to attack Haven on your own, what do you need the chantry for?"

"Taking is not the same as holding," Martel replied, "Haven is still a place of many secrets. It remained hidden from the world for centuries, and likely would have remained so had it not been for the Warden's…companions."

Dee titled her head slightly, the way the man said "companions" was likely a dig at Leliana, despite their success; most Templars did not look fondly on the Heroes of the Fifth Blight. Assassins, apostates, and Qunari heretics had stood against the darkness, and now, after almost ten years of peace, the pious were now starting to blame those that fought for the ills that rose after the Archdemon fell. The Templars chief among them, considering the high place that certain mages had accented by their role in helping to stop the darkspawn.

If her mentor to offense, she chose not to show it, at least not with her words.

"You believe that the chantry can give you an edge when you approach the village," she said.

"I have heard tales of tunnels running through the mountains of Haven, tunnels dug by the dragon cultists, tunnels that hid their numbers from the rest of the world. If the chantry has maps of those tunnels, they could be invaluable."

Again the Knight-Commander laughed.

"Together, _our_ strength and _your_ knowledge…we may just be able to prevent any further damage to our prophet's holy resting place."

"I see," Leliana said coolly. Once again, Dee wished that she had at least one good eye. Her mentor had always said that body language could be informative as a person's voice…

…One of several limitations of her blindness, limitations that she still tried to overcome.

"Do you guarantee the safety of those currently being held in Haven?" Leliana asked.

"Alas, I cannot make such a guarantee," Martel answered, "In war…bad things happen. The villagers and priests that lived in Haven may already be dead. If they are…then the only thing we will be able to do is mourn them, and promise that such an outrage will never happen again, not with Templar power protecting the temple and its holdings."

The man paused; Dee imagined a confident smile on his face, a mask meant to reassure her mentor.

"Believe me, Sister Leliana; I would do nothing to jeopardize Haven or the temple. It is far too valuable."

Dee waited for the Nightingale to reject the arrogant Templar's offer. They would find another way to save Haven. They did not need him and his rogue knights. They…"

"I will need to send word to the Divine," her mentor said, "That we still have our people coming, people bringing information and supplies that will make such an operation a success."

Martel laughed again, but this time, there was an edge to it, something cold and sly.

"I knew the Chantry would see reason, and through this mission. I'm sure that the Most Holy will see the value of an independent Templar order. How it benefits the faith to have us following our own path, not simply the well tread road of the past."

"We shall see Knight-Commander," the Nightingale promised.

"We shall see."

IOI

Several hours later Leliana guided Dee back to her room, both women were clad in leather armor, both sporting new bruises from one of their training sessions.

Dee limped slightly from a bruise on her upper thigh, but this time, her mentor had gotten the worst of the exchange, Dee caught her three times for every one blow that her teacher landed. She would have been proud normally, proud that she had advanced enough to land so many hits, but not now.

Now she felt only anger at her mentor, anger at how she had cowed down to Martel and his minions.

"You are angry with me," Leliana asked her.

Of course not, teacher," Dee lied, keeping her voice as level as possible.

"You are," the Nightingale repeated, "And you have a right to be."

Her words both surprised and shocked her student. Dee had expected anger on Leliana's part, anger that her student might question her decisions, and the decisions of the chantry.

They walked in silence then, at least until they were back in Dee's room, the door was locked, and one of her mentor's agents was making sure that no one was close enough to listen in.

It was only then that Leliana spoke candidly with her.

It was only then that she was willing to both listen and speak openly with her.

"I wish to know why you worry so about this arrangement," her mentor asked, "What do you fear will come to pass by us accepting the Knight-Commander's help."

"You wish me to speak freely?" Dee asked her.

"I would not have asked the question if I suspected that you would not."

The blind sister sighed heavily.

Where could she begin?

"Very well," Dee sighed, "I believe that Knight Commander Martel cannot be trusted, he is a liar, and is overly ambitious."

"That is your opinion," Leliana responded, "What do you think his ambitions will lead him to do."

"When he first came to Ferelden, he tried to establish a foothold in the north, he seized both Amaranthine and Highever, but he overreached and lost both. Now he is looking to win an even greater prize. Haven would be that prize."

"Why would Haven be more valuable than two port cities?" her teacher asked.

Dee blinked; surely her teacher had her own opinions on this?

The only reason she would ask her student was to test her? Whether that test was of her loyalty or intelligence Dee couldn't say.

She could only try and pass that test.

"Haven would be a major victory for Martel. He could claim that it was the Maker's will that he reclaimed it, and once he did, could also claim that his success is proof of the righteousness of his cause. Many Templars would likely agree with him. Any men he has lost to desertions since his defeat in the north would return, and he would likely gain even more recruits among the faithful and pilgrims, people eager to punish the mages for daring to threaten Andraste's Holy resting place."

Dee shook her head.

He might even use this as evidence that it is he, and not Lord Seeker Lucius that should be leading the Templar cause. He may even have the strength to seize the position left vacant since the death of Lord Seeker Lambert."

"That is one possibility," Leliana agree, "What of the villagers and priests; do you believe that he will save them?"

"The useful ones," Dee answered, "He may keep them alive as hostages, but if they were to all die during the attack, he could claim that the mages executed them rather than see them freed. More fuel to the anti-mage fire that the Templars have been fanning since the rebellion began. As martyrs to _**his**_ cause, those hostages would be more valuable dead than alive."

"A chilling thought," Leliana admitted, and there is another one that you have not considered, Student."

"Mentor?"

The Nightingale sighed.

"When we, my companions and I, entered the temple a decade ago, our friend Oghren mentioned that he sensed lyrium within the temple, perhaps the strongest he had ever sensed. Given the chance, Martel may decide that that lyrium is far more valuable than the temple itself."

Dee's blind eyes widened.

"Surely not, the Temple is a sacred site. Could even a man like Martel just…?"

"What do your instincts say?" her teacher asked.

Dee fell silent, when she answered; her words were cold and angry.

"I fear the man would go to any length to achieve his ends."

"Sadly I agree," she said.

"I wish you didn't," Dee said sheepishly.

"As do I," the Nightingale admitted.

She heard her teacher step away, the soft sound of her feet as she paced the floor of the small guest room.

"What are we going to do?" Dee asked her.

"We need to find a way to turn this to our advantage," she said, "Perhaps we can turn Martel's schemes. Make them work for us."

There was a knock at the door. Leliana went to answer it. Dee' brow furrowed in thought.

Martel was a dangerous man, she knew that, and he likely would not have risen as high as he had without being careful to the point of paranoia.

It would not be easy to turn his schemes back on him.

"We have had word from Haven," Leliana called out.

Dee blinked.

"Word?" she said, "How?"

"Several of the townsfolk escaped into the wilderness, a few loyal agents and knights among them. They have done their best to isolate the mages from any aid. They have blocked the paths leading into the mountains, and brought down any bird that tries to fly from the chantry. The mages are trying to summon allies from the Grand Enchanter, but so far, none have gotten through."

"That is good news, at least." Dee admitted.

"It is," Leliana agreed, "And it gives me an idea. We can use this when we go to reclaim the village."

Again Leliana paused, Dee felt a shiver run down her spine, though she was not sure why.

"There has been another letter Dee, from Redcliffe village, from the chantry there."

"What kind of message?"

"A message from Reaper," her teacher said, it was left a day or so before we arrived."

"He passed this way," Dee said feeling hopeful, yet fearing her teacher's grim tone.

"The note mentions that he was on his way to Haven, if he reached the village."

Dee frowned.

Leliana did not have to say more.

She read the letter to her student; Dee recognized all the safe words. Clearly the letter had not been written under duress.

Yet, one part of the message was disturbing.

"He was accompanying a mage, a mage seeking asylum?"

"So the letter claims," Leliana said.

"Is it possible that this mage led him into a trap?"

"Perhaps, but we will not know until we take Haven back."

"All the more reason we must do this without Martel," Dee said coldly, "We know that Martel put a price on Reaper's head, if he finds him captured in Haven…"

"If Reaper is still alive," Leliana reminded her.

Dee frowned. It was all she could do to keep from snarling at her teacher.

 _Reaper could not be dead._

 _He couldn't be!_

 _ **The Maker was not that cruel.**_

Yet she let no sign of her emotions show. She was far too well trained for that. When she spoke again, her voice was as cold and even as any tranquil.

I will do what is necessary teacher. Whatever it takes, I will do it."

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, its grip warm and comforting.

"I know you fear for Reaper, Daelle; we will save him if we can."

"But this is about more than just Reaper, isn't it?"

"That it is," Leliana said with pride in her voice, "You have grown so much in the less few months, Dee. I'm impressed with you, what you have done, what you have endured. You are not the same girl that I sent with Reaper those few short years ago."

"I've seen much and more in the Maker's service," she agreed, "He will watch over Reaper. I know it."

"We must have faith," Leliana agreed, "Now we must decide how to deal with these rogue Templars and mages, how to turn their fight to _**our**_ advantage."

Dee nodded.

The Maker **would** watch over Reaper. She would pray that he granted the paladin his mercy.

For Martel, his followers, and the mages that had seized Haven, she would grant them none.

They had flaunted the chantry's authority for too long.

Now…they would _**pay**_ for it.


	38. The Pass

**Chapter 38: The Pass**

"Be honest with me, Sister. What can we expect from these villagers? Will they support our cause?"

Dee did not respond, her thoughts were elsewhere, in Haven…with Reaper.

She frowned.

 _He is alive,_ she thought.

 _He has to be alive._

The group was currently making its way over the snowy hills not far from the mountain pass that led towards Haven. Soon they would be in the valley, the valley that had hidden the village for so many centuries, hidden it until the Hero of Ferelden had found it. They moved as one now, Dee's people, and a full squad of Commander Martel's Templars, the rest of their force, made up of both Leliana's agents and Martel's Templars waiting outside the valley, waiting for the signal to move up and begin their push to strike at the apostates.

As the one least able to defend herself, Dee had been placed in the center of their group. Clad in armor almost identical to her mentor's she rode a mule being led by Kel Dace. The creature had been the only mount in Redcliffe capable of making the journey through the wilderness. It may have been slow, but at least it kept her from having to trudge through the snow, tripping over any root or rock hidden by the snow.

It did not make her feel any less ridiculous however.

My noble steed, she thought, how Reaper would laugh if he could see me now.

When this was over, when they were reunited…there was so much she wanted to tell him.

She looked forward to that reunion, perhaps more than even she was willing to admit.

First, however, they needed to make contact with the villagers, those who had fled when the mages first fell upon Haven; they were likely the only source of real intelligence about what might be waiting as they made their way towards the village and temple.

That task fell to Dee and her fellows.

Gray Eyes had bounded on ahead, again, making sure that there were no scouts watching for the approach of intruders. Dee was not concerned, the huntsman knew how to stay out of sight, if anything the Templars' presence concerned her more, and what would come when they reached the end of this journey.

"Sister?" Ser Amelia repeated.

Dee sighed.

Clearly ignoring the woman was not an option.

The blind sister's, brow furrowed at the question, not so much the question itself, but at what it implied

"Our" cause, she thought to herself.

 _When exactly did this become_ _ **our**_ _cause?_

The Templars had their own agenda, no one could doubt that. What that meant for Dee, Reaper, and the rest of the chantry forces here, she could not truly say.

It was a troubling thought to say the least.

Leliana would have suggested that she play along with their new allies, at least for now.

Haven needed to be liberated, they all agreed on that, what happened after well…

…that had still not been decided, yet.

"Haven _was_ … **is** the home to the most faithful, Ser Amelia," she said, "They are good folk, pious folk, they will do what they must to free their home from these apostates, I'm sure of it."

"I have no doubt," the Templar woman responded, Dee detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, yet chose not to comment on it. She recognized Templar arrogance when she heard it, and she had heard it often during her early journeys with Reaper. That arrogance usually remained right up until Reaper saw the Templar hanged.

She tried not to think about that last part.

Things were tense enough between the chantry and Martel's forces.

She had no desire to make things worse.

She remembered Ser Amelia, of course, back before she and Reaper had left to find Gray Eyes, the Templar had approached her. Gaging her reaction to whatever it was that the late Lord Seeker Lambert had wanted to make of the world. The meeting may have been innocent, but it had given Dee a taste of things to come, though she had not realized it at the time.

Now she found herself travelling with Amelia and her fellows. Dee did not trust them, but trust was not necessary, she sincerely doubted that the Templars trusted them. She had heard a few of Amelia's fellows make off comments about the strange companions that the Blind Sister had surrounded herself with, Andrea and Gray Eyes chief among them.

Dee had pulled both aside over the last few days, making sure that they would not put themselves into a position where they would be baited by the Templars, baited into doing something foolish, something that the chantry's former guardians could use as an excuse to act against them.

Both had agreed to watch themselves. The werewolf turned huntsman had always avoided the Templars, and knew how to remain silent when the need called for it. Dee had feared that Andrea would be hard pressed not to confront them, given her history, but the former pirate, now witch surprised her.

"I can play the good little pet when I need to, sister," her companion said, "You have no cause to worry about me."

So far, Andrea had remained true to her word. She kept silent, yet no doubt remained under the Templars' watchful gaze.

"What of it, Sister," Amelia continued, "Do you believe when can convince the Haven survivors to support us?"

Dee considered how best to answer that question. In this, honest was not entirely the best policy.

She knew what it was the Templar woman was asking her, or rather understood what she wanted to hear. Amelia was fishing to see if Dee knew how loyal the people would be to Templars seeking to move in and claim their home as a base. In truth Dee could not say for certain. It likely depended on who was in charge, and how far Amelia and her people were willing to go to see Haven freed.

The rest was a roll of the dice.

Dee frowned.

She did not like such odds. It would be hard enough to free Haven, to find and free Reaper.

She would have preferred less risk, with fewer surprises.

IOI

Both the Nightingale and Knight Commander Martel had been eager to get this mission going, the longer they waited the more time the mages that had taken Haven had to dig in and prepare for whatever form of retaliation their enemies might bring to bear.

Sister Daelle understood that, but still pleaded for patience, the wooded paths leading to Haven were treacherous enough in the winter without striking out unprepared.

No, she still stressed the need to have a huntsman to guide them, someone used to the Ferelden wilderness during the winter months, someone who could handle not only the cold, but any surprises the woods might throw at them. She felt that Grey Eyes was that man.

She would not start out until he arrived. Plus, he was the only other member of her party that had met Reaper; the two men had been cordial enough.

Grey Eyes would have a stake in seeing her partner liberated. Despite his…affliction, or perhaps because of it, she thought him as trustworthy as Charter or the Nightingale.

In preparation for them leaving, the Knight-Commander assigned Ser Amelia to act as his representative on the advance team, and Dee's bodyguard. The sister had tried to decline his offer, but the Templar officer would not hear it.

"You are the most vulnerable person going on this mission, Sister," Martel reminded her, "For that reason, you should remain here, but that is not something we can allow. You alone have experience with what we should soon face. Sister Leliana says you served in the Haven chantry for a time. You know these people, the people of Haven. You _**know**_ them, what they want, what they desire in life. That makes you the most valuable asset we have right now, the Haven survivors know you, or at the very least _know_ of you."

The man chuckled.

"We're going to need you before all this is through. With the exception of your master, you are one of the few people with us that these Haven rebels might listen to."

Dee acknowledged that, she had spent some time in Haven, aiding the people that had come in the wake of the dragon cultists that had been defeated by the warden and his allies during the Blight.

Most people in Haven should know her, but that did little to lessen the risk. Would the villagers accept their help, and, more importantly, would they accept the Templar's help.

That was the more important point here.

IOI

"Haven has always been a singular place to live, Ser," Dee said to Amelia, "Isolation leads to a sense of independence that you may find…troubling."

Dee smiled slightly.

"I advise you to keep an open mind, and not try to bully these people. Havenites have a certain way of doing things."

"They would refuse our help?"

Dee did not need to see to know that the woman was frowning, it was in her voice, clearly Ser Amelia expected to be greeted with open arms in Haven, to be seen as a liberator.

It was not that simple.

The Divine had spent the last few years making sure that Haven was in the hands of people who were not only pious, but loyal to the chantry first.

Dee had never really understood why until she had begun her travels with Reaper.

What she had seen beyond Haven had opened her eyes.

It was hard to forget those lessons, especially since the Templars had abandoned their role as the chantry's defenders. She had originally thought that order could be cleansed, that by removing a few troublemakers, it would fall back into line and be the force it should have been, the defenders of the faith.

She did not believe that anymore.

"When we meet them, I suggest you leave the talking to me," the Blind Sister advised.

"As you wish," Amelia nodded, "Though I find it hard to believe that anyone of faith would turn down Templar aid. We are a known commodity after all; your allies are…not so dependable, I think."

"What are you implying," Dee asked her.

"Only that your allies do not inspire trust, a shaggy huntsman, A dwarven leg breaker, a Rivaini scoundrel, Lady Wren…who…is more suspect than most."

Dee bit back an angry retort.

She could not deny that her allies were…an acquired taste, but unlike the Templars, they had never betrayed their vows to serve and protect. Her people might have their own motivations, but they were honest.

Could Martel and his Templars say the same?

Dee did not think so.

As the sun began to dip below the mountains, the Templars set up camp. All agreed that the path was too dangerous at night. The place where they stopped had been suggested by Leliana, an area with enough trees and rock formations to hide the group from anyone who might have been watching from Haven. The foliage allowed a fire, the group would be warm, and little or no light would escape. This was the place that the wardens had set up their own camp almost a decade ago.

The Nightingale could not have chosen a safer place.

Kel helped Dee settle in by the fire, while the others tended to the camp. She listened as Amelia barked orders to her fellow soldiers.

The sister frowned.

So far, things had gone well enough. Ser Amelia had kept her fellows on a tight leash. That would likely change when their reinforcements arrived…

…When the battle began, anything could happen.

Dee intended to be ready.

Again Dee's thoughts drifted to Reaper, what might happen if Amelia or her fellows discovered that he was in Haven.

Before they had left Redcliffe, the Templar woman had tried to endear herself to Daelle by suggesting that Reaper had become a good friend of hers during his time with the Templars. That the two of them had grown quite close.

Dee was not sure what to make of that.

What the woman meant by "quite close" she could not say. All she knew is that it made her feel more than a little possessive.

Reaper would never turn to such a woman, she thought.

He would not.

She tried not to dwell on such thoughts. She suspected that the Templar only sought to distract her from what was about to happen.

Dee was determined not to be baited.

Te sound of boots crunching on the snow drew her attention, the sound of a familiar voice cursing under her breath.

Dee smiled.

"Is everything okay, Andrea?" she asked.

The pirate-witch snorted and sat down near her.

"Tis too cold for my tastes." Her ally said, "Give me the warm coastal winds of the Free Marches any day."

"The mountains are not for everyone," she admitted, "Fortunately we need not travel over them for much longer. "The tunnel system the cultists built through these mountains was designed to keep their numbers warm and hidden.

Dee pursed her lips.

"Hopefully our enemy has not discovered them."

If Andrea took any comfort from this, she did not show it.

She sighed and continued to mutter under her breath.

Dee felt sorry for her, but realized that there was nothing they could do.

They had come to far now, they were committed to this course.

All they could do now was follow it through to its conclusion.

Kel eventually returned with her supper, dried meat and fruit, not most nourishing of meals perhaps, but something she had grown accustom to in her travels. Dee sat back and listened as her people and the Templars settled in for the night.

The conversations of the templars' interested her far more than that of her own people. She kept an ear open for anything that might suggest treachery on their part; so far she heard nothing to suggest that.

The soldiers spoke of where they had come from, and battles they had fought. When they did mention Haven it was always spoken of with more than a small amount of reverence in their voices.

Surprisingly the only voice she did not hear was .Amelia. The Templar woman had been so chatty since they had left Redcliffe that she chose to be quiet now was surprising.

Had she simply decided to turn in for the eve, or was something more going on?

Once again Dee cursed her unseeing eyes. It was entirely possible that their Templar allies might have revealed more than what they were telling through simple glances.

Dee could not help but fear that she might be missing something right now, something that might tell them what they might have waiting for them at the end of this journey, a battle with the mages, yes, but what came after, what these Templars were prepared to do once the battle was won.

Dee took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.

Her thoughts drifting not only to Reaper, but to Leliana as well, both of the people she loved most were right now behind enemy lines so to speak. Reaper was in danger yes, she was sure of that, but the Nightingale was also at risk.

If things went badly, if Martel thought they were going to betray him.

Her mentor would be left in harm's way. Yet, Leliana had agreed to the terms with no complaint.

Whatever was going on, Dee hoped her mentor had a plan. Martel did not strike her as the type of man to be trifled with.

Being the Left Hand of the Divine would not mean much to a man like the Knight-Commander Dee feared.

She hoped her mentor was prepared for what might come.

Once the fighting started it would not be easy to reach her. They would…

The sound of voices drew her out of her reflection, she straightened in her seat.

It sounded like someone was approaching.

"Sister," she heard Gray Eyes call out.

"Sister."

"Yes Wulfe," she called out, "What is going on?"

"The people from Haven are here," the werewolf responded, "A knight and three others; they were on their way here when I stopped them."

Dee nodded.

"I take it they got our message then?"

"So it seems," the huntsman answered, "there is more too, they have a prisoner, they think you might want to speak with her."

"A prisoner," Dee said, "One of the mages that attacked the village?"

"Maybe," he agreed, "The Havenites think it best that you speak to her."

"Very well," Dee agreed, holding out her hand. "Could you guide me, please?"

The huntsman growled in the affirmative.

She felt Gray Eyes strong arm wrap around hers pulling her to her feet.

She found herself eager to speak with this mage.

Perhaps she had some news of Reaper.

Any news would be good at this point.

She had high hopes, until she heard the sound of raised voices and of steel being drawn.

"Damn fools," she heard Gray Eyes growls, "Bloody Templars."

Dee sighed, she had a good idea what was going on.

"Damn it," she murmured under her breath.

"Shit."


	39. The Young Knight

**Chapter 39: The Young Knight**

" **Back away, Templar! I will not ask again!"**

" **You will turn over your prisoner, boy. The mages are our responsibility."**

" **This mage has surrendered to us; she is for the chantry** _ **not**_ **you!"**

Dee listened as Wulfe led her closer, for the moment the argument seemed to be under control, but she knew how quickly such things could spiral out of hand.

That and she thought she had heard the sound of steel being drawn.

Her frown deepened.

She should have known that things would start to go bad the closer they got to their objective. There were too many bad feelings between Templars and mages for things not to turn violent the closer they drew to Haven. Now that they had a defeated mage in camp…

…it was only matter of time until blood was shed.

Still the Havenite had the right of it. If the mage had surrendered to them, then she was a chantry asset.

The Templars had no right to claim her.

Now she just needed to find a way to make the Templars understand and accept that.

She suspected that it would not be easy.

Wulfe may have led her here, but he did not do so alone, Andrea remained at their side, watching events play out before them.

"This could be interesting," the witch said in a hungry voice.

Dee did her best to ignore her.

 _Interesting was_ _ **not**_ _good right now._

"Tis brave of them," Andrea continued, "One against four, the other villagers may be holding pikes, but they will be no match for a Templar.

"She chuckled to herself.

"The young knight has his work cut out for him."

Dee shook her head.

There was _**not**_ going to be a fight, not over _**this!**_

She would be damned before she let that happen!

If this was going to work, if this _temporary_ alliance was going to hold, then things needed to stay stable, at least for the timing being.

She asked Gray Eyes to describe what was happening. She hoped that she might be able to resolve this before things got worse. The huntsman said that the people from Haven or rather the knight who was leading them stood between the Templars and the bound prisoner. This knight was quite young apparently, brown haired with tanned skin, perhaps merely an up-jumped squire who had had knighthood thrust upon him when their home had been attacked.

She did not recognize him, not from description alone, but the voice did sound familiar…

Hm?

Wonder who it is?

Four Templars now confronted him, Wulfe did not know their names, but claimed they had stayed close to Amelia for most of their journey.

The mention of the Templar leader once again reminded Dee that she _**should**_ have been here.

She should have been keeping her dogs on a tighter leash.

Dee shook her head.

 _Blast!_

 _Where was the damn woman! Surely she must have heard what was going on!_

"Is the mage doing anything?" she asked, "Is she resisting in anyway?"

""No," Gray Eyes said, "She is on her knees with her head down, her hands are bound behind her back but…"

Dee's brow furrowed.

She did not like dramatic pauses, especially not at times like this.

"What?"

She heard the distaste in the werewolf's voice.

"I…I think she is _praying_ , sister. Perhaps, she is preparing her soul for death."

The Sister had heard enough!

This was not happening, not now, not ever!

She did not care of this was a mage, and if she _had_ been among those that had attacked Haven.

The Templars would neither torture, nor murder a woman at prayer, mage or not.

She would not have it.

"Get me over there," she ordered Wulfe.

She had heard enough!

"The others and I have your back, sister," she heard Andrea say as they pulled away.

"We'll be ready."

Dee shook her head.

As much as she appreciated that news, she would not need it.

There would be no fight here, not over this!

She would not allow it.

She would not!

IOI

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" she demanded.

"STOP THIS AT ONCE!"

There was a brief pause, Dee could imagine everyone turning, looking her way.

She did not back down, she kept her head high, and her voice even.

She would not be intimidated.

"This does not concern you, sister," a cold imperious voice called out. She suspected it was one of the Templars.

She would not be silenced.

"Your name, ser?" she demanded.

"Ser Hammund," the knight responded, "The Templar order has jurisdiction over _**all**_ mages, sister. The chantry cannot intervene."

"You have no right."

Dee shook her head.

"Let time I checked, the Templar order had _abandoned_ its accord with the chantry. Any claim you might have had over any mages in chantry custody ended when you did so."

She frowned in the direction of the man's voice.

"It is you that have no right to harm anyone within chantry custody!"

She heard a cruel laugh.

Clearly Ser Hammund did not share her opinion of the situation.

That would need to change.

She was grateful to have Gray Eyes at her side at that moment; unfortunately, she could only guess where the others were. Andrea said they would have her back, but not to be able to see with certainty that that was happening.

She was playing a very dangerous game here, and she knew it, but she dared not back down.

Both the chantry's honor and a life were at stake.

She could not afford to look weak.

"I think that you are overestimating your value to us, sister." The Templar chuckled.

"The chantry struck a deal in good faith with your leaders," she reminded him, "You should keep that in mind."

"The Knight-Commander will have Haven, woman, be grateful that we are coming to protect your flock of hens and peasants from the mages' cruelty."

Dee snorted at that.

From what she had experienced in the last few years, it was clear that mages were not the only ones who had a lock on cruelty.

"Haven belongs to us, Templar," the young voice who had spoken early called out, "We appreciate your aid, but it will not be yours."

"Mind your place, boy," Hammund growled, "Adults are talking."

Dee feared that would be the final straw that the young Havenite would have had enough!

Surprisingly, she heard no sound of violence, no clash of steel; clearly the young man was keeping his cool.

Good, she thought.

Maybe they could salvage this alliance after all.

"You forget yourself, sister," the Templar said again, "Things have changed, the world has changed; we are no longer the chantry's lap dogs."

"You will accept chantry authority," she informed him, "In this, and for the rest of this mission.

She took a single step forward, away from Gray Eyes, and towards where the mouthy Templar was standing.

"You will accept," she said coldly.

She heard booted feet drawing closer, Ser Hammund trying to intimidate her, trying to get her to step back, to submit to his will.

He did not know her very well, clearly.

She would not back down, not in this.

"Do not think that your blindness, shields you from Templar judgment woman," he growled, "Aiding the mages is a punishable offense."

"I'm merely protecting one of the Maker's flock," she replied, still refusing to back down.

"As I said, you will not be harming this mage."

She heard another step.

 _Get closer_ , she thought, _just a little closer._

 _You are almost there._

He stopped before her; she could feel his ragged breath on her face. The man was clearly furious over her denial of his claim over the mage.

He would not be finding any satisfaction here.

"You need to learn your place," he spat at her.

"And _**you**_ need to remember _**yours,**_ " she answered.

"I'll teach you to mind me!"

She felt fingers wrap around her arm.

 _Thank you_ , she thought.

Her training took over.

The Nightingale's lessons proved their worth.

She stepped to the side, seizing the man's wrist. He had likely thought to grab her and strike her.

She did not give him that chance.

She flowed around him, pushing him forward while bending his arm at, what could be called a very awkward angle.

The result was quick, almost instantaneous.

The Templar was now on his knees before her. She had full control; his arm was hers to do with as she willed.

And he did not sound happy about it.

He let out a surprised gasp, and tried to stand up, she twisted just so and that cry turned into a pained yelp.

She bent his arm back painfully, as Leliana had taught her.

 _Do not release your grip until you are sure that you are safe,_ her mentor had advised.

 _If it becomes necessary, you_ _ **may**_ _break the arm, and then…you are guaranteed safety._

Considering how the man had talked to her, she was giving it some serious thought.

She heard gasps and several cries of surprise. The Templars had no doubt thought her weak, that she needed her allies for protection. She intended to prove them wrong, now. She heard several "release him," and "Let him go," but she did not comply. She did not relinquish her hold on Ser Hummund's arm.

"Unhand me," he growled.

She tightened her grip.

"You _**will**_ remember your place," she said icily.

She felt him trying to struggle, to force his way free.

She twisted his arm even harder.

He yelped again.

"Stop resisting, or I break it," she warned him.

"You will not threaten anyone under the protection of the chantry."

She heard the sound of steel being drawn, for a second she feared the worst, then she realized it was only a single sword.

"I have your back, Sister Daelle. None of these dogs will touch you."

It was the young man who she had heard earlier, apparently he had come to her aid, and it seemed that he knew her.

Her brow furrowed, she did not know this man, but his voice was certainly familiar, yet still…she could not place it.

Realizing that she could not hold the Templar and his allies at bay for long, she called out for the one person she knew who could end this peacefully, if she was even willing.

She has to be, Dee thought.

If not, than we are all lost.

"Get Ser Amelia," she called out, "I wish to speak with her about this."

She heard nothing, no response, only tense silence.

"Get me, Amelia, now." she demanded.

"I'm here, sister," she heard finally, "And, I must admit, I'm impressed."

Dee's eyes narrowed.

She was not trying to impress anyone, merely make sure that this alliance did not fall apart.

She heard booted feet approach her, none of her allies responded, so she guessed it was Amelia herself, coming to inspect her man, make sure he was not permanently damaged.

He was not, for the moment.

"What has happened here, Hammund," the Templar woman asked, "Why are you causing problems for our allies?"

"The mage is ours by right," he spat defiantly; "I intended to interrogate her, see what we were up against."

"Good idea," Amelia said with a nod, "Bad timing."

"Sister Daelle, I assume you wish that this mage remain in chantry custody?"

"That is correct, Ser," the young man standing next to Daelle chimed in, "the woman surrendered to us and asked for sanctuary. On the chantry's behalf, I granted it."

"I see," Amelia said, "Your name, ser?"

"Percival Goodspeed, Ser," he replied, "I've been given charge of protecting our people."

Dee's eyes widened.

Percival Goodspeed?

Percy?

She had known Percy, for several years in fact. His father Doran had been Haven's blacksmith while she had served in the chantry there. She remembered many times the boy saying that he wanted to be a knight, and had heard the other knights saying that he would not stope pestering them until they began his training, but...

She shook her head.

Percy had been a boy!

This knight was a young man!

It has been a few years since you left Haven, she realized, Percy was what…thirteen maybe fourteen. He had been a bit small for his age, or so the knights had said…still, a lot could change for a boy that age in three years.

It was long enough for him to become a man.

"I suppose you have interrogated the prisoner?" Amelia asked him.

"We have, he said, "She offered information freely. She was not among the mages that attacked the village; one of our scouts saw her arrive with a knight a few days after. The knight shielded her while this one fled into the forest."

Percy sounded so sure of himself, Dee thought. It sounded nothing like the shy boy she had known.

Things had changed it seemed.

The boy had grown up.

"She has given us no reason to doubt her."

"I see," Amelia said, "Sister Daelle, in the interest of our alliance, and as a token of good faith, I release this mage into your custody. Should you require Templar aid in containing her we remain at your service."

"Thank you," Dee said bowing her head slightly, "That is kind of you."

From his place on his knees, the Templar groaned.

Amelia chuckled.

"You may release my man now. He will offer no further problems, you have my word."

Dee nodded, and complied.

The Templar slid down into the snow. She heard him curse under his breath, and once again she heard Percy step forward.

"Nothing tricky, Templar," The young warrior from Haven said.

Dee could imagine the boy's sword was up, not to kill, but as a warning against treachery.

Ser Hammund grumbled something about blind women, and crawled off to her right, back to the safety of his men Dee supposed.

"Ser Frederick, see to Hammund," Amelia called out, "The rest of you return to your duties. There is nothing left to see here."

Dee remained where she was, she could here Percy breathing, the tension in the sound of it. That tension faded as the Templars returned to their work.

She sighed.

Crisis averted, she thought…

…For now.

"Are you well, Sister?"

She turned and smiled.

Percy Goodspeed, she thought, a knight in service of Haven.

She almost laughed.

Maker…she felt old.

Wulfe and Andrea came up beside them.

That was too close," the werewolf growled.

"Indeed," Andrea replied, "We will need to watch our…allies a bit more closely I think. Some may take what happened here personally."

Dee nodded. The witch had the right of it.

Dee turned to her defender.

"That was brave of you, Percy," she said, "A bit foolish but brave."

"The knights who trained me always said I was a bit reckless," he admitted, "But it was worth it to protect a woman in need."

Dee blinked.

Something in the boy's voice sounded…different. She got the feeling that he was not talking about the prisoner.

A hint of a blush came to her cheeks.

Percy had had a crush on her back in Haven, the other sister's had made sure she was aware of that. Beginning his training to be a knight had been only part of the reason he had stayed so close to them.

Puppy love, they had said, she had been a bit enigmatic, back then, travelling back and forth with her mentor. The boy had been intrigued.

That was what…five or six years ago now; she had been away from Haven for almost three.

He is just a boy, her conscience chided.

She held up her hand.

"May I see you, Percy?" she asked.

The young man laughed good naturedly, he clearly remembered what she meant.

"Of course," he took her hand in his and guided it to his face. Dee's touch was feather light as her fingers explored what kind of a man the boy had become.

Strong jaw, small pug nose, but not necessarily unattractive on such a man, the eybrow was as she remembered, slightly up, which had given the boy a bit of mischievous look, or so the other sister's had described it. She could feel long hair pushed back behind his ear.

He was also as tall as Reaper now, perhaps a little taller. Her hand drifted down to find a heavily armored shoulder, Templar grade shoulder plates, and likely broad shoulders beneath them.

"You have grown up, Percy," she exclaimed.

The boy chuckled.

"You have not changed a bit sister," he said, "Still as beautiful as ever.""

Now Dee did blush, she could not help it. The gentle way the boy touched her hand was…affectionate to say the least.

He is a boy, her conscience warned.

He was only five years younger than I. There is not much difference between a woman of twenty three and a man of twenty.

She pushed such thoughts out of her head.

She was flattered but nothing more.

Reaper was still out there somewhere.

She needed to help him.

She took her hand away, it had been sweet to remember simpler times, but they had work to do.

"May I speak with your prisoner? I have questions."

"Of course, sister, follow me."

Percy took her hand again and guided her over.

They took several steps then stopped.

"This is Sister Daelle," Percy called out the mage, "You may speak freely with her.

"Sister Daelle," the mage said, recognition in her voice, "You…you are Sister Dee?"

Dee blinked.

"My friends call me Dee, yes. Who might you be?"

"Praise the Maker," mage said, "My name is Kess. I…I was travelling with your partner. Ser Reaper told me about you."

Dee's heart leapt.

"Reaper?" she said, "He is alive?"

"I hope so," the mage said.

"I hope so."


	40. The Unknown

**Chapter 40: Unknown**

Something was happening.

Reaper could not say what it was, but it was clear that something was going on with his captors. Despite their claims of imminent success, the Three Liberators and their allies were not as secure as they let on.

Allard's visits had become less and less over the last few days, if days they were, he had no way of knowing in this bowels of the chantry, the cells offered him no clue.

His only way to judge the passage of time was the arrival of the apprentice that tended to his needs. The young mage and two sell-swords showed up twice a day to allow him to eat and attend to…well other bodily matters.

They never talked to him directly, apparently they had been order not to, but that did not mean that they did not have information to share. As he lay in his cell, drifting in and out of sleep, he heard things. His guards gossiped about what was going on outside, questioning the actions of their leaders and what was going to happen next.

It was useful information to be sure, now Reaper just needed an opening,

He just needed one chance.

The main thing his captors discussed was the lack of word from the rest of the mage rebellion. Birds had been dispatched when they had first taken the village yet no response had come back. Allard and his two fellows continued to preach that the Grand Enchanter and the rest of their forces were coming, that soon they would have an army big enough to take the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and finally have means to force their chantry enemies to reconsider their campaign.

A decent plan, Reaper thought, and it might have worked once. Back when the Templars still served the chantry, threatening the temple might have been enough to convince the Divine to hold the order back; unfortunately, she no longer had a say in what the Templars did.

 _Why are they being so stubborn,_ he thought, _why is it so hard for these mage to grasp how much has changed?_

He had tried to explain several times to Allard and his fellow liberators that the Templar Order no longer answered to the chantry. He had tried to get them to see that the order considered itself an independent body, no longer beholden to chantry oversight and law.

Again and again he was dismissed. Either they did not believe him, or they had simply chosen not to pass along what they knew to be true to those that followed them, either way, the result was the same.

This grand gesture, this plan to win the war in one swift stroke was doomed to fail. Sooner or later, they would come to realize that and when they did…

Reaper shuddered.

He feared what would happen to the hostage villagers.

So things continued on as they had. He was kept in the dark only to have Allard drop in from time to time spewing his venom and rhetoric. The man spoke little of the Temple now; perhaps the snows had sealed the pathway leading up to it. If it had, there would be little the mages could do until spring. If the mages sought to starve the people in the temple out they were in for a big surprise. Storms were quite common here, and after almost nine years of enduring mountain winters, the temple was as secure as any place in Thedas against the snows that fell. Not only was it a place of religious contemplation, but it had been used many times since the chantry takeover as a shelter during the harsh winter months, they had ample supplies, especially now. The garrison had shrunk considerably since the guardian had left with ashes, and with most of the Templars leaving to fight their war, the remaining people up there would have a surplus of supplies.

The mages would run out of food long before Temple of Sacred Ashes did.

Which left the mages here with time on their hands and with time, came suspicion and anger. So far it had not boiled over into violence against the villagers who had remained, but he feared it was only a matter of time now.

Desperate times could lead to desperate measures.

Allard still insisted that he give up the secrets of his power, to that end the mages had turned to a new tactic. They had chosen to deny him his lyrium drafts, the Three Liberators left a functional philter and vial of lyrium just outside his cell, hoping to use the Templar addiction to their advantage and force him to aid them as the worse symptoms of withdrawal set in.

Once again they had been proven how foolish they were. To any one with eyes it would be clear that was not suffering any ill effects. He had not needed lyrium since his return from the flames; whatever had happened to him had freed him of that particular leash. They could dangle a philter in front him as much as they wanted, it meant nothing. You could not suffer from something you did not have.

He shook his head.

They still saw him as just another Templar, one that had learned a few tricks that they did not understand. The more fools they were for continuing to believe that.

These people did not believe in miracles, if they did they might just understand how foolish their cause was.

Haven was not the answer. It was not the key to victory, but a false hope that would doom them all if they were not careful.

At this rate, they would fall; he just hoped and prayed that the innocent did not fall with them when they did.

As he lay in his cell his thought drifted back to Dee. They had been apart for so long now. There…there were so many things he wanted to tell her. So many things that he wanted to apologize for.

He had wasted so much time. He should have gone in search of her the moment that he arrived in Amaranthine. If anything had happened to her the last few months it would be all his fault. He should have been there, she should have found her protected her.

If she had been harmed, that would be his burden to bear.

He would have much to answer for, and then…then…

There was Kess.

That…what happened still haunted him.

What had happened; it was not fair to Dee or to Kess for that matter. He found himself wondering how he would ever explain it. What could he say?

Dee had pledged herself to the chantry, but…he could not deny his feelings for her. Kess had helped him realize that, but still…

How could he explain what had happened?

Where would he even begin?

Getting a little ahead of ourselves aren't we? It is still very good possibility that we are going to die here.

He tried not to think about that, he was still breathing, as long as he still lived there was hope.

A sound to his right drew his attention that and a sudden brightness.

He sighed.

It looked like it was time for another session with Allard.

Joy of joys, he thought shaking his head.

He prepared himself for another confrontation. What would the man try this time?

It would be interesting to find out.

The door opened and with it a figure holding a single torch. Reaper kept his eyes down letting his eyes adjust to the brightness.

"Wake up, filth," Allard growled, "You betters have come to speak with you."

He chuckled.

"My betters, huh, will they be joining us after you leave, or is this to be group meeting?

The mage hissed angrily.

"Save your snide comments, Templar, we heard enough of those during our time in the circle."

Reaper dared a look up.

He was surprised.

Allard was not alone.

Two other mages had accompanied him.

A mature looking woman was glaring down at him, her stern gaze and harsh bearing suggesting nothing but contempt. This, he had to assume was the mage Saera. At her side was an elf, short in stature with dark brown hair and eyes. He seemed; nervous being so close to someone with Templar training, Reaper wondered if he had tasted Templar justice at some point during his time in the Circle. This of course, must have been Gimmel, the third member of their trio.

Reaper smiled up at them.

So these were the three liberators, he hated to admitted, but after his time down here he come to expect something more. Allard seemed to delight in playing the villain, his allies might very well have been someone's harsh mother in law, and Gimmel some senior elven servant. They certainly did not look like leaders of a rebellion.

"Good afternoon to you," he said, "Or…or is it morning, it is kind of hard to tell down here."

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"How is he still coherent," she asked, totally ignoring Reaper's words, "This long without lyrium, he should be a sobbing mess right now, ready to tell us anything."

Reaper did his best to respond, he tried to shrug, despite the restraints.

"I have a strong constitution.

From behind Saera, the elf shook his head and began to pace.

"This isn't working," he grumbled, "No word from the others, outlaws attacking us and retreating into the hills, and now this."

He shook his head.

"This isn't working at all."

"Patience, my friend," Allard said, "We are close to securing victory. As soon as the Grand Enchanter responds to our call, we will have more than enough people to defend our new holdings."

The elf nodded, but continued to pace.

He clearly did not share Allard's confidence.

Saera approached him, her eyes cold and evaluating, she stared at him through the bars, perhaps looking for a sign of weakness from lyrium withdrawal.

She would find none.

"Your time grows short Templar," she informed him, "Our scouts have reported Templar activity just beyond this valley. It seems that your allies are more brazen than we thought."

Reaper sighed.

"They are not my allies," he said, "As I've told you before, I'm loyal to the chantry, not the order."

Allard sniffed the look of contempt on his face unmistakable.

"You see what I've had to deal with Saera, the defiance this man shows; the willingness to out and out lie to us is incredible.

"I'm…I'm not lying," Reaper said, "The three of you are misguided."

Allard gestured,

Reaper gasped as he was shoved back into the wall of his cell, hard.

He hit the ground gasping for breath.

"No, Allard," the woman growled, "We may, yet have need of this one, especially if he has the abilities that the villagers claim."

Reaper lay on the floor of his cell, trying to catch his breath, wishing that he had a sword at that moment or at the very least his hands free.

He could feel the fire burning within him. The will to use it was not gone.

All he needed was an opportunity.

"You must realize that any attack by the Templars on this village would be a foolish gesture. We have your people here; surely the Templars will not risk assaulting a village filled with innocent Andrastians."

Reaper snorted.

"As…as I've said before," Reaper growled, "The Templars broke the accords with the chantry. They are no longer bound to serve. Many of their leaders are a vicious as any outlaw lord."

He sighed.

"Depending on who's out there, they may have no compunction about attacking this village, even with your hostages; you have to listen to me."

He looked up only one step or two below pleading.

"Please understand; the rules that you all grew up with changed after the White Spire. The order is looking out only for itself now."

Allard sneered down at him. Gimmel looked around nervously, his elven ears twitching, perhaps processing what Reaper had said.

Saera's eyes narrowed, she stroked her chin thoughtfully.

It seemed that at least one of these three was willing to consider that something had changed.

She shook her head and turned to her fellows.

"It seems that we must adjust or tactics, brothers. Have this one cleaned up and taken upstairs, put him with the others for now."

Allard gave her a suspicious look.

"What are you thinking Saera?"

The lady mage frowned.

"We can no longer wait for the others. After speaking with several of the villagers, I think I've come up with an idea."

She pointed down at Reaper.

"This one may yet prove useful, bring him, but watch him close, if he tries any funny…"

Allard grinned.

"I think we get the idea."

Reaper shook his head.

Sadly, so did he.


	41. The Tunnel

**Chapter 41: The Tunnel**

"The pathways into the old tunnel system are now clear. We can start bringing soldiers through at any time."

Dee nodded as she listened to Percy's report. She was currently standing with Ser Amelia and the leaders of the Haven survivors. So far the plan to use the old tunnel system through the mountain seemed to be the best bet; not only were they once again open, but as far as the Havenites could tell, the mages and their allies had not found them…yet. The tunnels used by the Disciples of Andraste had been mostly closed off since the Chantry first moved in here years ago. Only small sections had remained open and that only for the storage, or possible protection from the weather during the winter months.

 _Now we are going to use them to try and assault the village,_ she thought, _if luck and the Maker was on their side, they should be able to slip in before any of the mages were the wiser._

"My guides are ready to assist," the chantry brother who had being leading the Havenites assured her, "Those mages are in for a nasty surprise once the rest of these Templars find their way up here."

Though she could not see it, she imagined the brother giving her a very satisfied grin.

"The village will be back in chantry hands in a matter of hours, provided neither the Templars nor the mages offer us any unforeseen…surprises."

"We will do our part," Ser Amelia said coolly, try to remember to do yours."

Dee said nothing, despite having common interests there was little trust between the Templars and the people of Haven going into this.

Hopefully, there was enough to make sure they all made it through, that and not doing the mages job for them.

That was the real trick; she thought with a frown, Even if we do outnumber them, it may not be over easily…even after taking the apostates by surprise.

We will need to be careful; magic is not the mages' only advantage.

They still have hostages. We will need to get them to safety first, or at the very least secure where they are being kept.

Take away the apostates' shield, and then things should start to fall into place.

IOI

Percy had led them back to where the surviving Havenites had made camp. No sooner had they arrived that Ser Amelia had sent back word to Knight-Commander Martel and the rest of their army. The Havenites had promised to aid the Templars as guides in the tunnels. The knights were not happy about that, they would have preferred going in on their own with maps, but they had little choice. Few here knew the tunnels as well as the people who had lived in the village, and if the Templars thought them mere peasants they were sadly mistaken. Most of the people here had been in Haven since the chantry had first arrived almost a decade ago. These were the ones that the chantry had sent in to search the tunnels and makes sure the dragon cultists that had once called this place home had not left any surprises for those they thought to be intruders.

Dangerous work to be sure, Dee knew, it was no wonder that this lot had manage to escape the mages.

It was not the first time that they had faced danger.

Those that had escaped Haven were now being led by a chantry scholar by the name of Chelsted Abernathy. Brother Chelsted had been born the third son of a wealthy family, and had spent some time in the military in both Ferelden and Orlais. It was an old and familiar story; younger sons often had to go their own way, especially after it became clear that they would not be inheriting the family fortune. He was not the first younger son to turn soldier or mercenary, and even before the Blight there had been a great demand for soldiers. Dee had met the brother for the first time almost ten years ago, when she had accompanied Leliana back to Haven with a company of Templars and priests to secure the ashes of Andraste. He had not known what to make of the blind initiate that had followed in Sister Leliana's wake, but over time, the two had become friendly, once he realized that she was neither a burden nor a drain on chantry resources. Despite his position, Brother Chelsted retained some of his military discipline, and had been invaluable in those early days of going through the old tunnels. He admitted that that life had appealed to him, at least in his wilder young days, but at some point, for reasons he chose not to share, he had left that past behind, and embraced a life of religious contemplation and research.

The chantry could not have found a finer man to lead this operation, he had done well in keeping those that had escaped Haven alive, and making sure that the apostates managed to gain no reinforcements, his men had spent a great deal of time with their bows, bringing down any raven before it had been able to escape the mountains, and with all the snow, most of the major paths into Orlais were blocked, preventing any runner from escaping into the Empire, any that might have made it through, had been intercepted by the Havenites. If the mages were thinking of getting support from there, they would not find it.

"I do hope that the Nightingale is right about this Sister Daelle," Brother Chelsted said with a heavy sigh. "Haven is our home; most of us would rather die than see it used as such bargaining chip."

Dee understood how the man felt, but hoped that he understood that it was entirely out of her hands. Sister Leliana had the ear of the Divine, and trusted her to do what was necessary to ensure that neither Haven, nor the Temple of Sacred Ashes remained in hostile hands.

What that meant for the people of the village, she truly could not say.

Percy had stayed close to her since their reunion in the Templar camp. Though Dee welcomed his help, that some of her allies were not overly happy about it, neither Rafe nor Kel seemed overly pleased with the young man's presence.

Dee was not entirely sure why, sure of course, it was possible that the other young man in her party did suspected the young Havenites intentions towards her, which she found somewhat ridiculous.

Percy Goodspeed had been a good boy, and so far as she could tell, had grown into a good man.

If only the others would see it?

Wulfe did not seem to have any problem with him, thank the Maker, and he treated Kess and Andrea with nothing but respect. The Circle mage was flattered by the young warrior's attention while Andrea remained cold and aloof. Andrea had been a little weirded out when Percy had tried to kiss her hand.

The incident amused Dee.

She wondered if she should tell Percy of Andrea's strange…origins. The fact that she had been a male pirate for the most of her life might have shocked the young warrior.

No, she would let Andrea bring up the subject in her own time.

It would be better that way.

Slowly Knight-Commander Martel's forces began to gather. They arrived piecemeal, in groups of five or ten.

Andrea said it looked like Martel had about five hundred men, hardly a full army, but more than enough to take a sleepy mountain village unaware.

The Nightingale and Martel arrived together a day or two after the first Templars. Dee only just managed to hide the sense of relief she felt at being in her mentor's presence again.

She had worried that Martel might have decided it was in his best interest to eliminate the Left Hand of the Divine. Surely her mentor recognized that fact, but had chosen to remain at the man's side anyway.

Keep your friends close, she imagined Leliana saying, and keep your enemies closer.

Martel introduced her to his lieutenants Ser Geoffrey and Ser Chadwick respectively. It was these men who would be carrying out the bulk of the operation here.

Brother Chel began organizing his remaining people, the ones that would serve as guides. Martel met with Ser Amelia and his two allies preparing them for the assault to come.

Sister Leliana finally made her way over to her old student, and Brother Chel.

"Is everything in readiness?" she asked the chantry brother.

"Has everything been prepared?"

"We are ready, Sister," he promised, "The table has been set according to your design."

Dee heard the older man chuckle.

"It has been a long time since I've been a part of something like this."

"And you Dee," the Nightingale said, "Are you and your companions ready; this may not go as we all hope it will?"

Dee sighed.

"I feared that from the very beginning, mentor, though…I will try to do everything that you expect of me."

She felt Leliana's hand on hers; it was warm in the cold winter air.

"I've never doubted that," the Nightingale said, "That or you."

She leaned in closer then to her student, so close that few not standing close by could hear her.

"When things happen, they will happen quite fast; stay close to Percy, and tell your allies to do the same. You will need them when the time comes."

Dee nodded, but was not quite sure what her mentor meant.

Surely they were simply just going to be marching through the tunnels and come out and around the village of Haven, they would need to watch out for sentries when they emerged, but that would likely not be until they had cleared the tunnel system...

The blind sister felt a strange twisting in her gut.

She got the strangest feeling that there was more going on her than she realized.

She did not like what that meant.

It was then that the Knight-Commander and the Nightingale addressed the faithful, those brave soldiers risking their lives in the name of the Faith. Sister Leliana's words were simple, asking them to keep their faith and remember that the Maker walked with them. Martel was much more fiery, rallying them with words of blood and victory, and taking the first step to ending the threat of the mage rebellion once and for all.

Dee was not sure what to make of the Knight-Commander's speech. She doubted that Kess, Wulfe and Andrea felt the same surge of excitement by his words, more than likely they knew what threat it was to people forced to endure a life touched by magic.

Dee said a quick prayer of her own, asking for the Maker to watch over her allies. She even offered a prayer for Reaper, hoping that where ever he was, he was alive and well.

If he is in Haven, as Kess says, we e may just be able to see him safely liberated. She prayed that they would finally be able to meet again, it had been so long.

She listened as Martel gave final orders to his captains and lieutenants.

Dee's eyes narrowed.

How would Martel react when he saw Reaper again? She gripped her cane handle tightly, thinking about the dagger built into it.

If the man tried to harm Reaper, and she was close enough to act, he would find that she had a very unpleasant surprise for him. Hopefully, if that time came, she would the support of her allies.

She felt a hand on hers; it was wrapped in cold hard steel.

"It is time, Sister," Percy informed her.

"We are moving."

She nodded reached up and touched his face for reassurance.

"Thank you, Percy," she said.

"Let us be off. It is time to end this."

IOI

The tunnels that the dragon cultists had used sill stank of sulfur and lizards.

Dee made her way carefully over the uneven ground, guided by Kel Dace. Wulfe and Percy went before them acting as their vanguard and shield. The mages Kell and Andrea stood behind her, ready to act if needed, with Rafe bringing up the rear.

She could hear the Rivaini complaining about the dirt and grime as they pushed forward. He was murmuring something about the stench and the heat, and about no amount of gold being worth this.

Dee smiled slightly.

A short time ago her allies had been complaining about the cold, but now, the many steam vents in these tunnels had risen the temperature to comparable to what one might find on a Ferelden summer night, perhaps hotter.

After so much cold, Dee welcomed the warmth.

She took what simple pleasures she could.

Occasionally she would hear the sound of echoed voices to her left or right. The groups were moving through slowly and carefully, the tunnels may have been swept for traps years ago, but that did not mean they were without dangers.

Every once and a while, Dee thought she heard the sound of an animal's cry, a hissing yowl. Her imagination conjured up images of the young dragons that the cultist had kept in these tunnels, the drakes they used as traps and guard dogs.

Supposedly no dragons remained here, but that did not mean the chantry may not have missed one or two.

The thought made her shiver, the thought of engaging a dragon! She did not like to think about it.

"So this is where the Hero of Ferelden and his companions travelled," She heard Kess murmur, "It is impressive."

Dee smiled.

She had had little chance to speak with the mage since Percy had delivered her into their service. She spoke only kind words of Reaper, and expressed a desire to see him brought back safely.

"He saved my life," the mage insisted, "First in West Hill, and then during the storm. We were forced to take shelter. He protected me, made sure that we arrived safely."

The mage sighed heavily.

"I wish that I could have done more, stopped him from getting taken."

Dee did her best to reassure her.

"Reaper is a good man. He would give his life to defend that innocent. You did right in running for help, now we know he made it to Haven."

Dee nodded grimly.

"At least we know he is alive."

"Tis not necessarily certain, Sister," Andrea said, "Who knows what the mages have done since this man's capture?"

"Damn it Andie," Rafe growled.

"What?" the witch said, "I'm only playing demon's advocate. This man could have been slain. He…

"QUIET!"

The word was barked by Wulfe, the whole group fell silent. All movement ceased as they paused, trying to hear what the werewolf had heard.

Dee tilted her head slightly, listening, her ears were likely just as good as Wulfe's or at least people claimed she had good hearing.

She needed it, she may have lost her sight, but the Maker had offered other gifts to compensate.

At first she did not hear it, but then as she listened, she realized what the distant sound was.

The clanging of steel the cries of men and women…

Her unseeing eyes widened.

"Back," she heard Wulfe growl.

"GET BACK!"

The tunnel around them shook, and then she heard voices in front of her, cries of vengeance and the strange sound of magic spells being spoken.

Dee shivered.

Their entrance had not gone unnoticed.

The apostates were here.

She felt someone yank her back hard felt heat on her face; she turned away as something exploded to her right.

She felt ice and stone strike her back, she went down. She tried to make for the edge of the tunnel, trying to keep from being stepped on by her companions.

She heard swords clang as battle was joined, the crackle of magic as spells flew back and forth.

She shivered.

It seemed that they would not have to wait until they reached Haven.

The war had come to them.

They were under attack.

Maker save them all.


	42. The Bloody Mess

**Chapter 42: The Bloody Mess**

 _So much for being a human shield._

Reaper only just managed to dodge the sword. He slid out of the way as his attacker was overwhelmed by a blast of lightning. A mage stood over him now, glaring down his face sticky with blood, a bladed staff in hand, he might have jabbed his weapon's end into the fallen paladin had at that moment a Templar bolt pierced the man's throat.

He fell with barely a sound gurgling on his own blood.

The tunnel was filled with screams, the cries of the dying and the clash of battle. Chaos had erupted the moment the two sides had spotted one another, Templar and mage now tore at each other like two wild animals caught in a pen too small of them to keep their distance.

Reaper shook his head.

It seems that the Liberators latest plan was not going as expected.

IOI

The magi had dragged him out of his cell and into the daylight; he had been left blinking after so long trapped in the darkness. Allard remained close to watch him as Gimmel and Saera led the way. The female mage walked with purpose, her face set in a determined frown.

Reaper had not been sure what was going on at first, but as they made their way through Haven it was clear that the mages and their forces were mobilizing. It seemed that they no longer were willing to simply wait for their enemies to come to them.

Reaper could not say if that was a good idea or not, he had no idea what had been happening beyond what he had heard his guards say as he languished away in his dark cell.

It seems that his jailors had made a plan while he had been in their care.

The young warrior shook his head.

He could not decide if he should be happy or sad.

He had not considered the mages his enemies. After his experience serving with Knight-Commander Martel, he could say that the Templars were no more righteous as any other ambitious group. Their quest for power, recognition and independence had set them at odds with rest of Thedas. They were no different that the rebel mages now, so sure of their own righteousness that not even the Divine herself could make them see sense.

The Mages, at least those that served the three liberators were no better. They continued to nurse the grudges of the past; seeking recompense for the pain they suffered during their days in the Circle, days that had grown increasingly worse over the last few years.

If they were not so dangerous, one might just have pitied them.

The Three Liberators brought him into the village square, there, surrounded by even more sell swords and magi, he saw several people he thought he knew, or at the very least recognized from past visits to the village.

Reaper tensed.

Were the mages going to torture these people in front of him? Was that how they were going to force his hand? They would find his response not what they expected if they did.

Saera grinned at him as she turned.

"As you can see, Templar," she said coldly, "Not all in this village are as stubborn as you."

Reaper looked up at four villagers, they did not meet his gaze; they looked ashamed.

They had no reason to be, the paladin thought.

He had no idea what the mages had asked of them, but they had likely threatened their families or friends.

He did not blame anyone who took a risk to see their loved one's kept safe.

We know that the Templars are coming for us," Saera called out to her followers. Her voice rang out loud and clear, dripping with both confidence and defiance. "We know that they are gathering in the valley, no doubt preparing to assault us. In the morning, they shall be upon us, dealing out blood and death, and an end to our glorious struggle."

She smiled grimly.

"We shall not sit here and wait to be torn into. She shall not stay and wait to be served up by our jailors with apples in our mouths. No, brothers and sisters, no willing warriors, we will not wait. We shall strike back as never before."

"WE _**SHALL**_ STRIKE BACK!"

The magi in the crowd cheered.

Even the icy contempt of Allard seemed to vanish before his allies fiery words. The sell swords raised their blades and called out the woman's name, whether that was a show of true loyalty, or simply a way to keep on the good side of their current employer, the paladin did not know.

Reaper stayed silent as Saera continued to rally her fellows. She promised victory. She promised justice, and the wrongs of the past would finally be squared.

She then turned to the four villages.

"These brave souls seek to buy safety for their loved ones. They have offered us a chance to strike at our foes. They shall lead us into the tunnels build by the ancient Andrastians; the same caverns that sheltered our profit's faithful will now give us a chance to strike back hard at our enemies. We show go in force through the tunnels, and surprised the Templars as they make camp. We shall decimate them as they have done to so many of our people since this great war began."

Again, the crowd cheered, the female mage drank it in for a few moments before raising her hand for silence.

The Templar order has long thought of itself as the sword of righteousness. Today, they will learn that righteousness stands firmly with us. Today, we win a great victory for the rebellion. Today, we show all of Thedas the strength that the Circle held. Today is the first step towards freedom, brothers and sisters... Today is day one of a brave new world!"

She grinned triumphantly.

"Gird yourselves, muster your courage and stand as one. The enemy is upon us."

She paused dramatically.

"Let them see the fire in our hearts!"

A triumphant roar rose up; even the sell swords that had accompanied the mages seem to be caught up in it.

Reaper shook his head.

Brave speeches were all well and good, but he doubted that these mages could pull off this kind of attack.

All it took was an alarm from one scout, one raised voice and the surprise attack the magi had planned would turn into a bloodbath, especially if the Templars were readying for a morning fight.

The mages began to disperse, breaking into four groups, the sell swords began to form up as well; their steel would be the mages only defense attack Templar counter attack.

Saera turned the paladin, she smiled excitedly.

"Your companions attempt to catch us unaware has failed. We know where they are hiding, soon their camp will be in flames and our position here will be secured."

Reaper sighed.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to stand down," he said, "If anything goes wrong, if one of your people slips up, you will all die."

Saera laughed.

"Your concern for our safety is touching, but unnecessary."

"Indeed," Allard said, twirling his oiled mustache, "If anything does go wrong, know that you will likely be the first to fall."

"You shall march at the head of our forces, Ser Knight," Saera informed him, "You shall stand as a symbol of our unity and strength."

Or as a human shield, Reaper thought glumly.

Again he wished that he could call on the fire within him. Yet, Allard and his spells still held Reaper in their grasp, anything beyond simple words and walking was beyond him at this point. Plus, days with little food and water had left him in a weakened state.

His faith remained strong, but the flesh was weak.

He doubted he could start a cook fire right now with his power, much less burn the lyrium in the blood of so many mages.

Be patient, his conscience chided, you are out of your cell; now _**that**_ opens up your world to numerous possibilities.

He had been in the tunnels before, not far in, but enough to know how confusing they could be to the unenlightened. He was not sure if the villagers who were helping the mages could deliver on what they had promised.

I need to be ready, he thought, at first opportunity, the first moment of weakness, I need to be ready.

Allard fitted him with an old battered Templar breast plate, like that would stop any knight that saw him. Most Templars would likely think him some sell sword, and probably run him through anyway, despite what symbol he wore.

Allard took command of the group that marched with the paladin before it.

"Do not try anything funny, Templar," the mage warned, "I'll be watching you every step of the way."

"Good to know," Reaper thought.

If things did start to fall apart, he knew which mage he would have to deal with first. It was Allard's spells that held his powers at bay.

If he was to be removed, who knew what might happen?

The mages marched out of Haven, leaving only a small token force to defend their hostages. The sell swords worked like shepherds, keeping this flock on track. Allard led the way with Reaper before him. Saera and Gimmel the elf brought up the rear. Despite marching into the unknown, the mages seemed confident, no doubt counting on surprise to win the day for them. Perhaps they thought that this battle would be a repeat of what had happened when they had first taken Haven.

Reaper doubted that it would be that easy.

Despite what he would soon face, the paladin found his thoughts drifting back to Dee. What would she say if she learned of his death here? Would she blame him? Would she blame the mages, Templars?

He would rather she blamed no one. It was war, and war was a show of horrors.

He did not wish to see his lovely partner lose herself to hatred because of him, because how he fell.

Staves began to glow as they went beyond the light of the village. Soon the rocky ground rose up, and the mouth of the cavern entrance gaped before them.

He was surprised, one of the first things that he chantry had done when arriving here was start sealing off the entrances to those tunnels, or that the very least limiting the people's knowledge of them.

Had the villagers been forced to reveal their location, or had there been more going on here?

As one the mages marched inside, with Reaper and one of their guides at the head. It was not long until the wall showed signs of the craftsmanship used by the Disciples of Andraste, the skill used to craft their prophet's final resting place.

Reaper murmured a prayer.

Just one opportunity he thought, that is all I need…

…Just one moment.

All conversation ceased as they made their way deeper in. He heard their guide speaking with Allard.

"The tunnel to the left will allow your forces to come out near the mouth of the valley, ser mage. It might be to your advantage to send some men down there, to block any escape."

"I will take that under advisement," the mage said coldly, "For now, lead on; we must reach the Templar camp before morning.

They pressed on.

Reaper closed his eyes trying to draw on the fire that still burned in his veins. He could feel the grip of Allard's magic, the strength of it was enough to…

Allard pulled on the rope that bound his hands and waist.

There were voices in the tunnel ahead, you could hear them echoing.

"Stand your ground," Allard hissed, "make ready."

A group of Templars came around the corner. They spotted the advancing mages.

Chaos broke out.

Spells flew overhead, as Templars shouted out challenges and battle cries.

An explosion shook the tunnel, knocking Reaper off of his feet.

Templar and mage collided; a clash of staff and steel, there was no room to maneuver in those tunnels. Fighting was up close, and visceral.

Fighters on both sides began to fall.

Twice the paladin was attacked, and twice he had almost died, but there was one small blessing. Allard's focus was no longer directed at him, no longer did the mage use his powers to try and muffle Reaper's. His head cleared.

The paladin smiled grimly.

His prayer had been answered.

He focused on his hands. They burst into flames, burning through the ropes. He…

"NOOO!"

Allard was there, he struck Reaper with his staff, he had tried to go for the head, but the warrior had had just enough warning.

The blow fell hard on his shoulder; Reaper gasped in pain, but did not falter.

The tunnels had become a slaughter house, mage and Templar tore into each other, and in its midst, Allard of the three liberators tried to end the life of Ser Reaper.

"They knew we were coming!" he shouted, "How did they know?! How?! How did you do this Templar?! How? How? HOW?!"

Each word was punctuated with the heavy strike of the mage's staff; it caught Reaper on the shoulder, the side and the thigh. Meanwhile the ropes continued to burn, it had taken all his strength to summon the flames, he would not let them go out now.

He glared at Allard, the mage was raving, his paranoia, and the stress of holding Haven had clearly gotten to him. To find Templars marching through the tunnel, spoiling their surprise attack, it had been the last straw.

He did not seem to realize that Reaper had not been able to do anything; he had been locked in a cell for weeks. He could not have gotten word out to the order, even had he wanted to.

No, the man had lost it, and with his mind had gone Reaper's sense of compassion.

The paladin glared.

So many days of punishment, so many condescending conversations, he was sick of it.

He was sick of Allard.

The ropes finally burned away.

Reaper's hands were free.

He let Allard know exactly what that meant.

Reaper grabbed the man's staff. He willed the flames to flow into them, much as they did Reaper's own sword during battle.

The flames covered the staff, and jumped to the liberators arms.

Allard cried out and let go. He flung his arms back and forth, trying to put out the flames as his robe caught fire.

Reaper rose, fury was upon him.

Allard looked at him his eyes wild and crazed.

"You want my power you bastard!" Reaper shouted,

"THEN HAVE IT!"

He shoved his hands into the mage's face.

The fire exploded, catching the man fully in the face, he staggered back shrieking in both terror and agony!

Reaper stumbled, the fire going out.

He had exhausted his power.

He was on his own.

Allard staggered back into a fight between a mage and one of the Templars. The knight did not hesitate. He struck out with his sword.

The blade punched through the screaming Allard's back.

He gasped his hands falling away from his ruined face; one remaining eye looked down at the blade that had been driven through his back.

Allard howled. It was a cruel inhuman sound.

The mage gave up his humanity, his body began to change, shift and grow, a demon tried to emerge as the dying mage began to become an abomination.

Reaper did not let it.

He somehow found a sword in his hand, he leapt forward.

Cold castle forged steel bit into Allard's neck.

The body died as the ruined head came away from the abomination's neck, its torso exploded as its flesh began to dissolve. The sight was so horrific that the fighting stop briefly.

Someone grabbed Reaper, pulling him away, while everyone else was distracted by Allard's final moments.

"Ser Reaper, this way, hurry ser knight, hurry."

He glanced up, seeing the Haven guide that had led them into the cavern in the first place. The blood ran from the man's mouth as he pulled the paladin forward past the squabbling mages and Templars.

Over the chaos he heard the man shout two words.

"RABBIT HOLE! RABBIT HOLE!"

The two went down a side tunnel as there was a loud cracking sound.

The tunnel behind them gave way, the sound of battle changed to cries of terror and shock. The rumble of falling stone drowned out the screams of men.

Reaper staggered, it had taken most of his strength to escape from Allard and his fellows.

His guide was in no better shape.

"This way," he gasped, "this way, they are sealing the tunnels!"

Reaper's eyes widened.

Sealing the tunnels!

They passed another side tunnel, more rumbling emerged, and the ground beneath their feet shook.

Reaper's guide fell, his body finally giving out.

Reaper was at his side.

He looked at the man's wounds, it was bad, but perhaps the fire could.

"Hold still, he told the villager, "I can heal…"

No time. No time," the villager repeated, "You must get out. Keep following this tunnel, do not turn off. The Nightingale is waiting, you must reach her, let her know we did our part."

Reaper blinked, unsure of what he had just heard.

Sister Leliana was here?

And what did the man mean by their part?

"Keep going," the man gasped, "Tell her we did our part, for Andraste! For the Maker!"

The man shuddered, Reaper tried to hold him still.

"For…for the Chantry," the villager murmured.

The light faded from his eyes, he fell still.

Reaper stayed with him until he was gone.

The sound of falling rock and the rumble of the mountain beneath his feet, it was clear that neither the mages nor the Templars had known what they were getting into when they marched into this place.

Reaper sighed, grateful for his freedom, but burdened with a heavy weight.

He had to get out of her.

He needed to survive.

He gave the man one last look. Thank you seemed too small, considering what the man had lost, what was happening around them.

"Yes," the paladin said, closing the man's eyes for the last time, honoring his sacrifice.

The paladin nodded.

"For the Chantry."

 **A.N: Next chapter the reunion of Reaper and Dee, until next time dear readers!**

 **DG**


	43. A Reunion

**Chapter 43: A Reunion**

The tunnels behind them…had finally fallen silent. No longer did the group here the clash of steel, or the rumble of the ground beneath their feet. No longer did it seem that a great battle would overwhelm them at any moment, that the mage rebellion would come roaring down a side corridor and consume them all.

The mountain had fallen silent. No more screams remained to be heard.

Dee could not decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I should have expected something like this, the blind sister thought with a frown. We did not expect any honor from the Templars and mages, after all that had happened in the last few months, no one would have expected that.

What she had not expected was for the chantry's forces to behave in a similar manner that was most unexpected.

It was true what was said, she realized.

War makes beasts of us all.

Another rumble shook the tunnels, she looked around nervously, despite the fact that she could not see, she listened for cracking sounds above them, fearful that the ceiling was about to fall on their heads.

When it did not, she sighed, offering up a quick prayer to the Maker and his bride.

The rumbling stopped, and again everything fell silent, there were no screams.

"This way, sister," Percy said pulling her to the left. She tapped her staff before her, left to right, right to left, making sure that there was nothing in her path. She could have trusted Percy to lead her well, but…

After what had happened, she would find it hard to trust Percy, at least for now. At least until she had gotten a chance to speak with her mentor.

"I was following orders, sister," he had said after they had slipped away from their Templar escort, after the tunnel behind them had rumbled loudly as it collapsed.

"This was the Nightingale's will," he said, "I could not deny it."

That was the part that was the hardest for her to swallow, to accept.

 _The Nightingale's will_ , she thought grimly.

 _How nice that her mentor had seen fit to inform her of this ahead of time._

 _She could not take any chances,_ the part of her that was fiercely loyal to her mentor said, _you were being watched too closely, and your allies were being watched._

Leliana had to place her cards very close to the chest, if she had not, who knew what might have happened; this plan may not have worked.

Dee shivered.

She could not say for certain that this plan _**not**_ working would have been a bad thing. By now, hundreds of men and women were dead, Templar and mages both.

Neither side had expected treachery on the chantry's part; that is why it had worked so gloriously.

The Divine's forces had surprised everyone.

When the battle had begun, everything had been noise and chaos! Dee had been afraid to move, she had her staff, yes, but given the closeness of the walls, the size of the tunnels; it would have been all but useless until they emerged in a larger chamber.

That is when she felt someone grab her, pull her to her feet, she started to struggle, but Percy stopped her with a word.

"We have to get out of here, sister," he hissed into her ear. "This way, my friends, this way, **rabbit hole, rabbit hole, rabbit hole!"**

Dee did not know what that meant, but she found herself in Percy's arms as the young warrior whisked her away from their escort. She heard Ser Amelia scream for someone to stop them, but that is when Dee heard a loud cracking sound overhead, a cracking followed by a rumbling roar.

"It is coming down," she heard Rafe shout in fear.

"THIS WAY," Percy shouted.

" _ **THIS WAY!"**_

At first she had thought it some accident, or a result of the fighting, a mage's spell gone awry perhaps. She counted herself lucky that they had survived, Percy must have seen something, and his warning had saved them all.

It was then that they heard another rumble from farther down, and to their right, that and screams cut short.

That is the moment that Dee realized something was wrong.

These tunnels had been here for centuries. The Hero of Ferelden has fought through these tunnels and they had never collapsed, or at least her mentor had never mentioned such a thing happening. Had the fighting been far fiercer today?

"Hold," she heard Percy cry out, "Is everyone here? Is everyone all right?"

Dee waited until she heard all their party call out, to make sure that no one had gotten left behind.

"You can put me down now, Percy," she said with iron in her voice.

Once he had done so, she gave him a cold look.

"What just happened back there?" she demanded.

"What in Andraste's name is going on?"

Andrea beat her to the punch, the sorceress was laughing.

"The Divine never intended to let the Templars have Haven did she?" the witch asked.

"She planned all this from the start."

Dee wanted to deny it. It couldn't be.

The chantry would never behave in such a fashion. Percy would confirm that, he would.

She heard the young warrior sigh, she might not have been able to see his face, but she could hear the regret in his voice when he answered her.

"I can't say what the Most Holy intended," Percy said, "I can only comment on what the Nightingale wanted, what she desired. I was forbidden to say anything, to any of you, especially you Sister Dee."

There was a brief pause; she could imagine him looking at her, his eyes filled with…what? Remorse? Sadness?

Percy sighed again.

"The plan is working. Sister," he said morosely.

"I'm sorry you were not told."

In that moment, he told her everything.

She had not been pleased with what she heard next.

"The Knight Commander had no intention of honoring his word, once Haven fell to the Templars, Martel would have given the order to execute you, the Nightingale, and every other chantry agent that took part in this attack."

"You don't know that," she said.

"But…I do," Percy answered, sounding more squeamish that she had ever heard him. In that moment she realized that despite growing to manhood, he was still quite young.

Having been raised in Haven, taught the chantry's tenants, this must have been hard for him, carrying out the Divine's orders, if this is what they were.

" **You could have killed us!"** Rafe growled.

"We're all still alive."

" **No thanks to you!"** Rafe snapped back.

"I warned you didn't I?" Percy reminded him, his own temper starting to flare, "I could have saved myself and Sister Daelle but I didn't."

"And what would have happened if we had been a little slow getting out of that tunnel, or if the Templars or mages had delayed us," Kel asked.

"We would have been buried along with the others." The boy said, "Our sacrifice would have brought victory. **We…MAKER'S BREATH!"**

Dee heard a low growl at her side, she heard Percy and Kess gasp, at least she thought it was them. Neither of them had ever seen Wulfe transform before, in fact, she did not think the others had seen it either. Grey Eyes had apparently turned during the fight. He did not sound pleased.

Dee heard the sound of steel being drawn.

She raised her hand, and stepped between Percy and Grey Eyes.

"He will not hurt you," she said, "This is simply who he is".

She was prepared to stand alone, to protect her friend, but it seemed that was not necessary, another came to her aid.

"You poor man," she heard Kess say, the mage moved beside her. Dee could feel the light from her staff shining on her face.

"Were…were you cursed with this affliction, or born with it?"

Grey Eyes growled again, not a warning growl, more like he was considering how much to tell her.

"Born," he said, "My mother was cursed. I did not inherit the pain that she did."

"You poor man," the circle mage repeated.

"This is not about me," the werewolf snarled, this is about him!"

Dee could only assume that Grey Eyes was pointing at Percy, if he was the drawn blade was understandable.

Wulfe could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Give me one reason that you should walk out of here?

The boy said nothing.

"What of your fellows," the werewolf snarled, "Aren't you worried about them."

"WE all knew the risks," Percy said glumly.

"We accepted them, willingly."

Dee thought about what he was saying, how far the people of Haven had been willing to go to protect their home, to protect the people still hiding in the temple.

Her temper cooled.

The boy tried to explain.

"Sister Leliana has spies among Commander Martel's ranks, they sent word of what going to happen, the orders that they had received. Had there been no confirmation, we would not have in acted the plan."

And what exactly was this plan?" Kess said from her place behind them.

The warrior sighed heavily.

"It has been in place since the early days, since the chantry first took stewardship of Haven. We always knew that the ashes would a be a tempting target, that some lordling might decide to try and start some religious crusade and claim the ashes as proof that it was a holy mission."

"The nightingale took steps to ensure that that would not happen. It took us years to rig the sections of the tunnels. My father was one of the main architects of this plan; he helped the masons and Brother Chel figure out how best to see it carried out. If a hostile force ever took Haven, if they sought the ashes, we were shown which tunnels to lead them down, which tunnels could be collapsed if needed, and which ones were safe."

The boy sighed again.

"Sister Daelle, we never thought we would need to use these traps against our own people, against Templars, but given everything that has happened, since the war began. We recognized the need for it. One of Sister Leliana's agents managed to reach us after Haven fell, told us of her desire to see not only the mages defeated but the Templars as well. We acted under her orders…"

There was a brief pause.

"We did what needed to be done."

Dee shuddered.

She…she still could not believe it.

Ten years ago, Sister Leliana had taken pity on her, a blind girl that she had no reason to help, but never the less she had. She had protected her, given her a new life, a place at her side, and taught her how to not only survive, but to live her life as anything she wanted, anything but a victim.

That Sister Leliana had been compassion itself; she found it hard to believe that the woman would do this, that she would risk not only their lives but her soul as well.

Dee couldn't believe it.

Again she heard Andrea chuckle.

"I always knew the chantry was ruthless," the witch said, "But still…I never knew you people had it in your to go this far."

"We did what was necessary," Percy repeated, only what was necessary."

No one said anything, what was there left to say?

"What about the Templars that remained behind?" she asked Percy.

"The Nightingale said not to worry about that. She has a plan in place."

Dee's unseeing eyes narrowed.

Yes, she thought, she just bet her mentor did.

"We need to get out of here," she said flatly.

"I need to have a word with Sister Leliana."

"We left markings," Percy informed them, "Guides to show the faithful the way out after the plan was put into effect."

"Lead on then, good ser," Kess said speaking up, "There is no reason to remain."

Dee nodded.

The mage was right.

"Yes," she said, "Lead on, Percy."

"I have business outside."

IOI

Not much was said as they started their way back towards the surface. Dee let Percy lead the way, with both Grey Eyes and Kel watching him.

It wasn't that she distrusted the boy or the markings that the Havenites had made in preparation for this plan, she simply preferred to have people she knew she could trust leading her out of darkness.

She had believed that Leliana had been that guiding light once.

Now…she was not so sure.

Andrea had not been wrong, what had been done here had been ruthless. She understood the why, but that did not mean that she totally agreed.

We are better than this, she thought, I know we are better.

The thought made her shake her head.

Andrea would have accused her of being naïve, perhaps she was, and this was war after all. The chantry had endured much since the Templars and Circle had broken away.

Perhaps this was the only response that mattered, she did not like it, but maybe Percy was right.

Maybe…just maybe, it had all been necessary.

"Do not judge him too harshly," Kess said from a place at her side. The mage had volunteered to guide her, freeing up Percy to help find their way out.

She had been silent up to now. If anyone had a reason to be angry about this, it was her.

"You approve of what happened here?" she asked the mage.

"It is not my place to approve or disapprove," the Enchanter said, "I can't say if this was the Maker's will or not, but two things are certain, Haven will not be simply handed over the Templars, and the mages that held it will not be able to continue to do so."

"Doesn't it bother you that your own people died here? Don't you care that they were lured into a death trap?"

"War is war," the enchanter replied, Dee could almost imagine the woman offering a shrug, "They took a gamble, and they paid for it. Maybe this will be enough; maybe the loss here will be enough to force the mages and Templars to the negotiating table. Maybe the Most Holy will find us a way out of this war."

Dee pursed her lips.

If the mage was right, then perhaps it would all be worth it, but somehow she doubted it would be that easy. There were too many old grudges, on either side.

At least now, the way to Haven would be clear, now they would be able to reach it and see if Reaper was…

"STOP!"

Percy's words cut through her musings, she paused her cane stopping in mid tap.

The group fell silent; you could have heard a pin drop in that tunnel.

They all heard it the shuffle of feet, the sound of ragged breathing.

 _Someone was coming_ , Dee thought.

Friend or foe, she truly could not say.

She found herself surrounded by hushed voices, as her allies prepared to meet this newcomer.

"Put out those lights!"

"Sister, get behind me."

"Stay back Wulfe, if they're friendly we don't want them scared."

"What is the chance that they will be friendly?"

"Not very, our luck hasn't been _**that**_ good lately."

Dee frowned.

She hated feeling helpless, but at this time, that is exactly what she was.

There was not enough room to use her staff, she could use the dagger in the hilt, she supposed, but did not want to risk it surrounded by allies.

Who could it be? She wondered.

She hoped that it was just more Havenites, she would feel safer travelling with more guides that knew these tunnels, but if it wasn't…"

Any surviving mages or Templars would likely not be in the best of moods. They had been betrayed and almost buried alive. If they didn't attack anyone they saw as a stranger on sight she would be extremely surprised.

Of course, if these were mages, who was to say what state, they were in. If they had given into panic, it was possible that what was approaching was an abomination. If that was the case, she was grateful to have two mages of her own. Fighting magic with magic usually worked better than trying to fight it with steel alone.

The sound grew louder, again the group fell silent, waiting…watching.

No one moved, no one breathed.

Finally she heard the sound of shifting armor, Percy standing up.

"Not another step closer Templar," the young warrior called out, "drop the sword and no one gets hurt."

"I'm not interested in going back to a cell," a familiar voice called back, "If you want trouble I can…"

Dee leapt to her feet, she…she couldn't believe it!

"REAPER!" she cried out, "REAPER! ITS ME!"

Again, silence, she feared she had made a mistake; it had been so long; perhaps she was hearing things.

Finally he spoke.

"Dee?" she heard the emotion in his voice, pain, fear, loneliness. She knew how he felt.

She had felt the same way too.

"Dee is that you?"

She let out a sound between a laugh and a cry and leapt forward, she stumbled, bumping into people, but she did not let it stop her, not after so long.

He was here, she thought.

He was here,

She had found him.

Reaper.

"REAPER! PRAISE THE MAKER!"

"Whoa there," she heard him say, "Careful there, Dee, you can't see, you are going to trip and hurt yourself."

She heard what he said even acknowledged it in her head, but discovered in that moment that she did not care.

She felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into a firm, yet gentle embrace. Her hands went up, seeking his face, seeking the confirmation of touch. She could smell the dungeons on him, but beneath that, was the familiar scent of her partner, her one true friend.

She felt his jaw his nose, he did not resist, she ran her fingers through his scraggly beard, but beneath it, was the jaw line she remembered, the friend she had been separated from for so long.

Tears filled her eyes; she could not help it, and would not have tried to stop it even if she could.

"Reaper," she whimpered, "I found you. I found you."

She rested her head against his heart, even through the breast plate she could hear it's comforting beat.

Her old friend laughed.

"I'm here Dee," he assured her.

"I'm here."


	44. The Victory

**Chapter 44: The Victory**

 _You can't go home again._

Reaper could not remember where he had heard those words. He did think that he had not understood what they had meant at the time, he thought it had something to do with maturity, but that was only one definition he supposed...

They are **true** words, he realized. He was once again in Haven, once again it was under chantry control, but that did not mean that it was his home, or at the very least a place that he had felt comfortable in once.

 _Perhaps it was because the ashes were gone, but he did not think so. No, this place had changed far too much for him to ever consider it home again. It seemed that the words he had heard were correct._

You **can't** go home again.

When he thought of that phrase, he got flashes of a tough looking woman in armor, fierce of eye, but also…gentle of manner when it came to her friends, at least…he thought so.

 _ **Who**_ _she was,_ _ **what**_ _she had done, and how he knew her remained a mystery._

It was troubling to say the least.

He stood among the trees, he had come here wanting to get away from Haven, not wanting to a part of whatever celebration the villagers might have planned.

He did not feel himself worthy of it.

He did not think any of them were, but him most of all.

Who knew what he had done in the past, maybe he was just as bad as everyone else.

So much of his past remained lost to him, he sometimes wondered if he would ever truly remember what he was, or who he had been?

Perhaps he was not meant to, perhaps this was his penance; perhaps he had committed some misdeed.

He shook his head.

Perhaps the warrior woman who had said those words to him had been an enemy, perhaps he had earned her ire, perhaps he was even now trying to make up for some slight.

He could not say, all that he could say is that he feared that what was happening now, what had happened earlier in the day was not the way to make up for past sins.

In fact, he feared he was simply committing **new** ones.

If it was not for the fact that Dee was here, he might have decided to strike out on his own, find…someplace where he could be comfortable in his choices, to never again question his motivations.

It might have been nice, but he could not do it. He had only just found his way back to Dee, back to his partner and best friend.

He would not abandon her, not again…

… **Never again.**

IOI

He had not been in the best of shape when she and her allies had found him, lost and wandering in the half collapsed tunnels. Days if not weeks of imprisonment had all but drained his strength. It had fallen to both Kess, and Andrea, the other mage that Dee had befriended in her travels, to get him fully back on his feet, spells and potions had bolstered him, and even then he felt nowhere near his top strength.

He had both led, and been led by Dee, the two of them walked together as they made their way back to the Havenite camp. A couple times he had been tempted to pinch himself, make sure that all this was not simply some fevered hallucination he had conjured up while locked in his cell beneath the Haven Chantry.

He glanced over at her, he had never seen Dee in armor before; she wore it differently than their mutual mentor the Nightingale. Sister Leliana's armor reflected the quiet strength that she carried within her, both as a hero of the Blight and the Divine's left hand. Dee wore it more as a shield, her lack of sight may have hindered her slightly, but only a fool would say that she was incapable of defending herself, anyone who saw her in that armor and thought it a joke had clearly never seen Dee with her staff.

Her strength may not have been the same as Sister Leliana's but that did not mean that it did not exist. Dee was strong in her own way, and right now…he needed that strength.

 _It would likely be some time before he recovered his own._

As for Dee herself, she had been busy during their long separation. In his absence she had recruited a team to help her in her search. They were a rather interesting group truth be told, warriors, rogues and mages, all dedicated to aid his partner in her search.

"It is kind of hard to look for someone when your eyes don't work," Dee had reminded him, in a dry happy voice, "Fortunately I was able to make some new friends, and their eyes work just fine."

Reaper had nodded.

He was grateful for the aid these people had offered.

Though it did make him wonder.

How useful was he now to Dee? It seemed that she had gathered a good crew around her.

Perhaps he was no longer necessary to her success.

IOI

It was good to see Wulfe again. Gray Eyes remained a friend and Reaper was happy to renew their acquaintance. The dwarf Kell was also a welcome sight; to the warriors of Thedas it was never a bad thing to have one of the stone folk on your side. Seeing that Kess had made it safely to allies pleased him, the mage had embraced him when they had been reintroduced, thanking the Maker for his safe return.

Briefly his mind flashed on their time together, but that faded as quickly as it had come.

It had been a memorable moment, but it had passed. The mage had let it drop; maybe it was a good idea for him to do the same as well.

Seeing the man that Percy Goodspeed had grown into was a bit surprising, the boy who had pestered the knights of Haven for training was long gone it seemed. Reaper had not thought so much time had passed, but then again it flowed faster than one thought, and the boy had been on the cusp of manhood when he and Dee had first left Haven.

It should have come as no surprise that he had crossed that threshold in the years since.

He could not say much about the Rivaini smuggler Rafe, he had met such men in the past, and they were useful, as long as the coin kept flowing. Still, the fact that the man had chosen to stay at Dee's side was telling.

There was a chance that there was more to the man than the Paladin could see.

It was possible.

The mage Andrea, she was another matter entirely...

Dark haired and beautiful, with pale skin and almost glowing blue eyes, the mage had given Reaper a look when they had first met, wide eyed, surprised maybe? She hid it quickly enough when he addressed her, but years of investigation and searching through out Thedas had taught him to be observant. The mage addressed him politely, and did as Dee asked, but there had been something in those blue eyes of hers, something…strange…

…strange, and perhaps… _familiar?_

Whatever it was, it would have to keep until later.

They were still in the middle of a war zone after all.

There would be time for questions later, after they had found their way out of the tunnels.

Then, perhaps, it would be time for answers.

Percy led them into the darkness with Kell and Wulfe offering their help where they could. Several times they passed collapsed tunnels, the sight made Reaper shudder.

How many men and women lay buried under that rock, mages and Templars caught in the Nightingale's trap?

He…he did not like to think about it.

Perhaps he should have been accepting of what had been done; Sister Leliana's plan had likely prevented a battle, and likely ended the threat of both these Templars and the forces of the Three Liberators.

Wasn't Thedas a safer place with both groups neutralized?

He wanted to think so.

He needed to think so.

According to Percy this plan had been in place for years. It had been meant to be used only if Haven faced the threat of a far superior force. What army could pass up the chance to slip undetected into their enemies midst?

"We never thought to use it on two forces," the young Havenite admitted.

He shook his head.

"Hopefully it worked."

Reaper could say nothing of the Templar forces that had come here, but it appeared that the mages had sent the bulk of theirs into these tunnels. If they had all been caught in the collapsing tunnels…?

The final battle for Haven would be a very short one indeed.

They passed the entrance of one of the collapsed tunnels. It might have been his imagination, but Reaper thought he could see a gauntleted hand sticking out of the rubble. It was pretty dark in the tunnels and he could not say for certain, nor did her stop to check and see if it was true.

For all he knew, he might have eaten with the man buried here, he might have spoken with him, joked with him during his brief service in Martel's army.

He tried to put such thoughts out of his mind.

Even had he known that person, the Templar in question would likely not have lost any sleep if it had been Reaper buried under tons of rock.

Don't think about it, his conscience warned.

Both the templars and the mages that were here, came with intentions that went against the chantry.

The fact that they had found their deaths here is not your fault, it is theirs, theirs and their commander.

Remember that.

"I will," he murmured under his breath.

"Did you say something, Reaper?"

He gave his old companion a gentle smile, she couldn't see it ,but she would hopefully not hear any worry in his voice.

"It is nothing," he said, "Old nightmares still trying to haunt me."

"We are together again," she said happily, "No nightmare will haunt me now, that you have returned."

Her words touched him, he felt warm in a way that he had not felt for a while.

Even in the dim light, he could make out her gentle smile.

Dee.

 _ **His**_ _Dee._

He shook his head.

Part of him wanted to pick her up, spin her around and kiss her. She would likely see that as inappropriate, but…

The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

He no longer saw her simply as his partner, he no longer saw her simply as a sister of the chantry. It would be easier for him if he did, but that ship had sailed long ago. The feelings that Kess had awakened remained strong, he wanted so much to tell Dee about them, what he felt, to see if she felt the same way. Yet, he dare not do it, not yet.

Not now, not when they were surrounded by so much death and dying.

Once they got back to the surface, perhaps, yes, maybe then.

She will reject you.

The old insecurities sprang back up, the ones that seemed to whisper that despite everything he had done, he was still a monster. He did the dirty work that no one in the chantry wanted to do, or admit that they had wanted done. Dee was close enough to know that, she had been with him, experienced so much of what he had done.

Even if she would accept you, she would never break her vows, they are too important to her, the chantry is too important to her.

She is your partner, take solace in that.

Because that is all you will ever have with her.

The only thing you will have.

Accept it.

He could try, but would that change anything? He felt the way he felt.

Reaper had spent a lot of time denying his feelings.

He did not think he would be able to continue to do so much longer.

She would reject you.

Maybe, he thought, probably.

At least I get to have her in my life, even if it means only worshipping her from afar.

Would that be enough?

It would have to be, he realized.

It would just have to be.

IOI

He could not say how long they had been in the tunnels, but they emerged in the morning sun.

Reaper blinked as he looked around the small camp, it was all but deserted except for a few of Leliana's scouts.

They rose from their place around the fire and greeted the new arrivals.

Welcome back," one said to Percy.

"We were starting to worry," added the second.

Percy shook both their hands, the three of them talked quickly, the two of them updating the young Havenite and his group of exactly what had passed in the last few hours.

According to the first one, Haven was already back under their control. As soon as the first group of guides returned from their role in operation mouse hole, the Nightingale's forces got to work.

Knight-Commander Martel had been unware that the knights serving as his lieutenants had been contacted by the Nightingale months ago, that she had convinced them of the value of returning to their duties. Both Ser Geoffrey, and Ser Chadwick had secured the renegade Knight-Commander with barely a fight. Once that was done, the few remaining templars that were loyal to the man fell into line and yielded.

Reaper was not surprised.

Both Knights had been more moderate than their commander. Despite what had happened to him in Starkhaven Ser Geoffrey seemed to keep the ideals of Andraste in his hear. Chadwick the man from Starkhaven had been equally pious.

It was not surprising that they should choose to return to the chantry fold.

Ser Percy asked about the other Havenites, those that had went into the tunnels.

He wondered just how many had made it back.

The two scouts glanced at each other, neither seemed really eager to tell their friend what happened.

Reaper watched as Percy Goodspeed's cheer crumbled.

Of those that had went in, only a handful had made it out. Some had likely been killed in the fighting, or buried along with the templars and mages they had been sent to trap. For the moment, Brother Chel was among those unaccounted for, he had gone in to see what aid he could offer the surivors.

That news saddened Reaper as well.

He had like old Chelsted, he had not only been a cunning warrior, but a good friend.

The chantry would miss his skills.

Percy continued to lead them through the woods, back to the main path to Haven. Reaper likely could have found it himself, but given how long he had been away, he thought it best to leave the guide work to their young friend.

This was, after all, as much a victory for the people of Haven as it was for the chantry.

He was more than willing to sit back, and let the villagers have their day.

When they finally did emerge from the forest, they saw that the scout that had met them at the entrance to the tunnel had spoken the truth.

Haven was indeed back in chantry hands.

Reaper saw several of Leliana's agents standing guard near the village entrance. The village looked barely damaged, if a fight had taken place, it likely had not been a long one.

The Liberators had taken the bulk of their forces into the tunnels. Most oft those mages were now likely buried under several tons of rock.

He doubted that the few sell swords that remained would be interested in putting up much of a fight..

"You made it! Thank the Maker!"

Reaper looked up and smiled. Sister Leliana and Charter emerged from the village coming down the hill to greet them.

Reaper glanced up at the small wall that ringed th village of Haven, what he saw shocked him.

It seemed that Haven's walls had acquired a few new decorations.

He could not say that he approved.

There were six people hanging from the walls of Haven. Six people who had been strung up after the battle had concluded. Two he recognized as sell-sword officers, men who had helped organize the mage's forces in their vain attempt to hold Haven.

He had no sympathy for them, they had been ruthless and cruel. He had heard that one had beaten one of the hostages to death over some slight or another, Reaper had no sympathy for them.

The next in line was one of the three Liberators, the woman known as Saera. Her body creaked back and forth in the winter wind, her eyes empty, her fiery tongue silenced and lolling out in death.

Next to her hanged Knight-Commander Martel, it seemed that the Nightingale had no interest in a trial. No doubt the man had planned to betray them, but still…seeing him in such a state.

Reaper shook his head.

This was where ambition led, he had hanged many outlaw templars himself since the Nightingale had given him his charge.

Martel had dreamed of power, now that dream was done, silenced by the Divine's justice, justice carried out by her strong left hand.

Next to Martel…

Reaper blinked in surprise.

He turned to the Nightingale.

"Geoffrey and Chadwick?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, matter of factly.

The two templars who had aided Leliana in her scheme to deal with Martel now hung dead beside their commander. The looks on their dead faces were of both surprise and anger.

The sight shocked Reaper.

He turned to the Nightingale.

Those men," he said, "those men…"

"Reaper what is it?" Dee asked, "What is wrong?"

"Those men," Reaper growled pointing.

"What about them," Leliana said coldly.

"They helped you."

"Yes they did."

And you _**hanged**_ them anyway?"

"I did indeed," the Divine's left hand replied.

"Mentor," Dee gasped, her hand going to her mouth, "Those men…they aided you, didn't they?"

"They did," Leliana repeated.

'And you had them killed," Reaper hissed, his temper starting to flare.

"Why?"

Leliana sighed and shook her head, the look on her was one that a parent might give a misbehaving child.

Clearly she did not like his tone.

Reaper did not care.

"Ser Geoffrey and Ser Chadwick did not return to the chantry for redemption," she said, "They did so expecting to be appointed as knight-Commander's when the war is finally over and the chantry stands victorious, or so they claimed."

Leliana shook her head again.

"I could not take the chance of them taking up Martel's mantle, his army is finished, either of those men could have chosen to make the man a martyr, use his death as a rallying cry to either ally his forces to continue their war, or use it as an accuse to attack the Chantry itself. I could not allow that."

Leliana sighed.

"Never trust a traitor, Ser Reaper, not even one you create."

Reaper listened her words, he saw the point, but at the same time, he felt horrified.

He had wanted to believe that the chantry was better than the Liberators and Martel, he had told himself that many times.

Yet now, when he listened to Leliana, he could no longer claim that that was true.

"What do you think is going to happen now?" he demanded.

"Martel has been made an example of," the Nightingale said, "his army is decimated, any survivors that do make it out will know that the chantry is no paper tiger, despite the loss of our templars, the Divine still has a reach, and it can be lethal if provoked."

"You think the templars will see it that way, that the mages will see it that way? Sister, do you not realize what you have done?"

"I'm well aware of the risks," she replied, "And I'm more than willing to face the consequences."

Reaper only just stifled and angry growl.

What chance did the chantry now have to resolve this war peacefully? Both sides would hear what happened here, and it would likely only harden their resolve.

The Divine, the chantry itself had made no friends this day. It may have been the best choice stratiegically, but…

He could not claim that it had been the right call morally.

He glared at the Left Hand of the Divine. He wondered if Justinia knew, and if she did, would the Most Holy approve?"

War made beasts of all, but Reaper had hoped for more from the Nightingale, and the Divine.

The chantry was built on Ideals, if they threw those ideals away, then what in the Maker's world were they fighting for?

He had no good answer.

He shook his head, and released his hold on Dee's arm.

"Reaper?" she asked.

"Excuse me," he said glaring at Leliana, "I need to get some air."

No one tried to stop him, not Dee or Leliana or any of their companions.

Reaper left unsure what he wanted, he had desire to see Haven freed, but not like this.

Not like this!

Perhaps he was being naïve, perhaps he always had been.

He had been willing to do the chantry's dirty work, to do the things that would allow the Divine's hands to remain clean.

What happened here, was beyond even him

He could not approve of it, nor of the betrayal that came later, the village and temple may have been safe, but…

At what cost, he wondered.

At what cost?

He made his way down the hill, just wanting to be away.

They had won…

…but he could not help but wonder, just how much they had lost.

What did the chantry have when its ideals were gone?

He could not say.

What was it all about then, he thought, all those things I did?

I wanted to save the soul of the chantry, perhaps it was already gone.

Perhaps it had been gone for a long time.

Perhaps.


	45. One Small Thing

**Chapter 45: One Small Thing**

"Thank you for doing this for me, Andrea."

The mage snorted as she led Dee farther down the path outside of Haven. The snow was not very deep here so the blind sister had no trouble navigating it, and with the mage's help, easily followed the tracks left behind when Reaper had stormed out of Haven.

Not that Dee blamed him, war was war, she knew that, but at the same time, she agreed with his assessment of the situation.

She had also thought the Chantry was far better than that.

"Tis no problem," the mage replied, giving Dee's hand a friendly squeeze, "I'm guessing we both wanted to get out of there, probably as much as your friend Reaper I'd wager.

"You were not comfortable with what was going on?" Dee asked.

"Too many happy chantry people," the mage responded, "To willing to cheer their victory, I can understand the sentiment, but…"

Dee could not see the frown on the mage's face, but she could imagine it.

Given her history, Dee was not surprised.

Andrea sighed.

"Having danced on the end of a rope, myself, I find it very hard to see it as reason to celebrate, even if it was a Templar doing the dancing."

Dee felt her ally's arm tense.

"Tis something that I would rather not think too much about."

Dee winced, she had not thought about that. Andrea's life had been changed, turned totally upside down, since her… _resurrection?_ The mage had to not only adapt to a new body, but to how everyone else saw her. It must have been hard enough being a male mage, now finding herself not only a mage but a woman on top of that…

The change had to be most confusing.

"How are you doing," she asked her ally, "It can't be easy having to adapt to…so many changes."

The mage laughed lightly.

"You might be surprised. I…I am not really sure what to make of all this. Tis not just the change, but…but…"

The mage shuddered, Dee might have been wrong, but she thought she felt goose flesh rising on the other woman's arm.

"But what," Dee asked, "I…I like to think of us as friends, Andie. You can speak plainly with me."

The mage barked out a laugh, whether it was because she suggested that they were friends or that she could speak plainly, Dee could not say.

Still…the mage **did** try to respond.

"I have…spent a great deal of time thinking on my past life. What I lost when the amulet brought me back. Tis…hard to explain, my memories remain, what I did, people I knew, but…there have been changes as well, changes that I…I am not very happy with.

"Such as?"

Andrea Wren sighed.

"As I said, I remember my past, events, people, and place, and yet, the longer that I am in this form, the less…connected I feel to those events. Tis like I heard what happened from someone else. What I know remains, but at the same time, the connection is lost. Tis like I read about those events, the emotions I felt before continue to fade. Tis…tis most disturbing, I fear that I am turning into someone else, and I do not like it."

Dee nodded. She could not say that she had ever experienced what the mage was going through, but she tried to be understanding, none the less.

"I know what that is like," she said.

"How so," the mage asked.

"After the siege of Denerim, after I was…blinded, the life I had known, had spent the first thirteen years of my life preparing for was gone. I had no way of reclaiming my mother's position; all those that might have helped me died in Denerim, died or vanished.

She shook her head.

I did not…embrace my new life in the chantry easily. It took time to adapt, to change the way I looked at the world, not just because I could no longer see it, but because everything I had known up until that point had been about eventually joining my mother's business, or marrying well for the benefit of that business."

Dee snorted at the thought now. Her mother had talked with her once about marriage, about finding an advantageous match.

She wondered what she would have thought of her daughter's choices. Dee had did her best to adapt to her new life, to be the best sister she could, to aid not just her mentor, but the chantry as a whole.

She sometimes wondered if her mother would have understood. Would she have accepted the life that her daughter had found for herself?

Dee liked to think that she would.

"I can see your point," Andrea said, "But at the same time, tis not the same thing. The change that I've undergone, it…it is more than simply having to adapt to a new life. It feels like the person that I was is…dissolving, fading away. What I become when that happens, I truly cannot say."

"Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise," Dee suggested, "Before you were changed, your life had gone in a direction you did not want or like, yes?"

"Tis an understatement, to be sure," Andrea replied.

"Perhaps then…this is mercy, perhaps it is truly a second chance. You have the opportunity to build an entirely new life for yourself, to make a fresh start, unhindered by your past."

"Perhaps," the mage agreed after a pregnant pause, "Though to be honest, I'm not entirely sure where to begin. The world has changed so much, the motivations that always drove me are gone, and the players that influenced my actions are no longer in their proper place."

"I think we are all starting to realize that," Dee said with a smile, "Orlais is reeling under it Civil War. The Mages and Templar conflict continues to burn. Whatever comes next will be something different, hopefully something better.

Andrea chuckled.

"That is assuming that things can come back from all this," she said.

"I believe that they can."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Faith, Andrea, I have _faith_."

The mage laughed.

"If only it was that simple," she said, Dee could hear the scorn in her voice.

It will have to be enough," the blind sister thought.

"It has to be."

"Watch your step sister," Andrea cautioned, "There is a log across our path."

Dee tapped out with her cane, hearing the sound of it touching the log, giving her an idea of how high it extended over the path. She heard Andrea step over it, and felt as the mage reached for her fingers.

"Take a large step," her ally advised.

Dee did so; grateful she was still wearing her armor from the journey here. Doing such in a chantry robe would have been difficult.

"Any sign of Reaper?" she asked.

"I see his footprints, or rather, someone's footprints," the mage said, "He could not have gone much farther I think."

The mage paused again.

"Yes," Dee asked.

"Have you known this…Ser Reaper long?"

"We have known each other a few years now, why?"

"He looks…familiar to me," the mage admitted, "Has he always served here, in Haven?"

"He was a member of the Templar order before we met," she replied, "I think I heard Sister Leliana say that he served in Kirkwall for a time."

"Makes sense," Andrea said, "He has that Marcher look, and the attitude."

Dee chuckled.

"Reaper is strong willed, I will give you that," she laughed, "But that only makes him good at his job. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Andrea said, "As I said, he looks…familiar to me, but I suppose that cannot be."

"Why is that?" Dee asked.

"The man that I knew, well, more of a boy than a man…he died several years ago. I was there when he fell."

The mage sighed.

"Perhaps it is only my imagination, as I said; my memory is not what it once was. I think…ah, there he is."

"Where," Dee asked.

"Just up ahead, I think he noticed our approach. We should…"

"Who goes there?" she heard Reaper call out.

"It is me, Reaper," she called out, "I asked Andrea to lead me out here, to help find you."

There was a pause; she tried to imagine Reaper's expression.

"You should not have taken the risk," he said, "These paths are treacherous enough, you could have fallen, hurt yourself."

Dee chuckled at that.

"I'm tougher than you give me credit for, remember?"

She heard a sound; she thought it was Reaper snorting with amusement.

"I remember," he said, "That and the fact that you can be as stubborn as a mule."

Now she did laugh.

"Look who is talking."

She heard him laugh.

"Don't move," he said, "I'm coming to you."

She heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.

"You can go now…Andrea was it? I will see Dee safely back to the village."

"You sure about this," she heard the mage murmur in her ear.

"It will be fine," Dee replied in low voice, "I will be fine."

"As you wish," the mage said letting go of her arm.

"Be careful."

Dee nodded.

She would, not that she needed to be.

She and Reaper were back together.

 _What did she have to fear now?_

She heard as he drew closer. His tread a careful one; not quite his hunter's tread, but close.

A shiver ran down her spine, though she did not understand why.

She frowned slightly.

Reaper was dangerous, not to her, perhaps, but he _**was**_ dangerous. He was the kind of man that radiated the damage he could do if provoked.

She reached out her hands, and felt him take them in his own. She felt soft callused flesh as he lightly rubbed the back of her hands.

 _Reaper,_ she thought happily.

 _My brave knight!_

They stood there, for a moment, just touching each other's hands. She felt him raise them up to his face; she could feel his breath on her fingers.

The sensation made her heart skip a beat.

"Lavender and healing herbs," he sighed, "I've missed that smell."

He lightly patted her hands.

"I've missed you."

In spite of herself, she blushed.

 _What was going on,_ a small voice in the back of her head warned. _Why is he acting like_ _ **this?**_

Dee tried to dismiss that voice, only to have it speak up again.

 _More to the point_ , it seemed to say, _why are_ _ **you**_ _acting like this?_

She had no answer, or rather, she did not care; they had been apart for so long.

She was just grateful that they had finally been reunited.

It was what she had been fighting for, for so long.

Why couldn't she just sit back and enjoy it?

She heard him sigh heavily.

"You still should not have come out here," he said, "This area has not been entirely secured yet; who knows who might still be hiding out in these woods."

"I wasn't alone," she reminded him, "I had Andrea with me."

"Yeah," she heard him say, "The mage."

Dee frowned.

"Is that disapproval I hear in your voice, good ser?"

"Merely concern, fair sister," he replied, "That mage…she…I don't know…she is kinda…spooky."

"She had an interesting…origin. I will tell you about it one day."

"Considering the things we've been through, anything you might think of as interesting is likely a tale."

"It is," she agreed, "I will tell you about it someday."

Dee sighed.

She had not come here to speak of her companions; it was him that she was concerned about.

She would not let him change the subject.

"Speaking of not coming out here alone, I could say the same to you," she said coolly, she dealt with enough people in her life thinking she could not survive on her own; she did not need Reaper saying as much as well.

"You have been locked up for weeks, you are nowhere near fighting shape, even with holy flames burning inside you, or the healing of our resident mages. Had a Templar or mage caught you unaware…?"

"I would have sensed them," he replied, "That is part of what I am after all."

"But would you have been able to defeat them in your weakened state? Why risk it?"

She heard him sigh again.

"I…I don't know," he confessed, "After everything that I've experienced with both the mages and Templars these past few months, I…I had hoped that the chantry would have still held onto its ideals. I've seen enough of trickery and treachery."

His finger's gripped her hands tighter; she could feel the tension there, the anger. It was not painful, but it was tight, protective.

He would not hurt her, she believed that, but at the same time, she could feel his frustration, to be honest she shared it, to a degree anyway.

"What happened here tonight, this business with the mages and Templars, it was never going to end well."

She shook her head.

"I suppose we should be grateful that it is **our** side that came out on top. I doubt that Martel or the mages that were holding you would have been very merciful or understanding should we found ourselves at _their_ mercy."

Some mercy," Reaper replied, "Though, I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised. How many men and women did I order hanged during our missions together? I really should not blame Sister Leliana for doing the same."

"I understand the reason, Dee. I do, but I…I thought we were better than that. I thought the chantry was trying to hold onto its ideals."

"Would you have rather been the one to decide those men's fate? Would you have rewarded the Templars that sold out their fellows?"

"I…I don't know, what I do know is that we made no friends today. If the mages and Templars thought us enemies before, they certainly do now, or will when word of this gets out."

"Perhaps it shouldn't then," she answered.

"Too many people saw it for that to happen," he reminded her, "People talk, even if sworn to secrecy, it would get out, there is no way that it wouldn't."

She felt Reaper rest his head against her forehead. She heard him sigh again, he sounded so weary, so tired.

It broke her heart.

"I'm not sure that I know what to do anymore," he admitted.

"We follow our hearts," she said, "The Maker will not forsake us."

She felt him shudder.

"Maybe he already has."

His words surprised her, he had always held strong to his faith, especially after his emergence from the flames.

If Reaper had lost his faith?

No, she would not allow it.

"Then we follow our conscience," she said, "If there is to be something better for Thedas, we will make it so. We know what is right and what is wrong."

She stood a little taller.

"We will show the world what it should be."

Reaper chuckled.

"You are a force of nature aren't you?"

She laughed, and feared she was blushing again.

"You gave me courage," she said, "You showed me what I could be, during our travels together, we were making a difference, Ser."

She smiled.

"I want to do that again."

"As do I," he agreed.

He paused again; she could almost feel his eyes upon her.

"What?" she asked.

"That damn scarf again," he said, no doubt referring to the piece of cloth that hid her damaged eyes.

"I told you before. People have a tendency to find my eyes…disturbing."

"And I said that most people are bloody idiots."

She laughed, she felt him push back her hood, as his fingers moved through her hair; the bun she had worn it up in came undone. Her long blonde hair fell down her back.

She felt the scarf fall away, felt the cool breeze on her face.

"There," Reaper said fondly, "much better."

She felt his fingers brush her cheek. She shuddered at his touch.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she said meekly. If she felt anything, it was not cold.

His touch sent warmth down her body, through her.

She swallowed hard.

They were so close now, too close perhaps. Yet, she did not want to step back. It had been too long since they had been this close. She had missed it. In the past she had only been this close when she had tended to his wounds, but was this any different?"

He was hurting, his faith was hurt.

She wanted to help restore it.

She felt his hand at the small of her back, it drew her in closer.

Reaper, she thought, I…what?

He embraced her, held her tight against him. She did not resist, even though she distantly thought that she should pull away.

He simply held her, held her and she was…happy?

"Dee," he sighed, "I've missed you so much."

Her body warmed under his words.

"I missed you too," she murmured, "I was so lost…"

His fingers went to her chin, they raised up her face; she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

She shivered slightly.

"Dee," her purred softly.

"Reaper," she sighed, a sigh that was thick with both surrender and desire.

Their noses brushed and then.

She felt his lips on hers.

She startled at first, maybe for a moment, but then she pressed her lips against his again.

She opened her mouth slightly as their kissed deepened, she could feel his tongue in her mouth. She…she…

Her cloudy eyes widened.

NO!

""No," she gasped, pulling away, panting. She…she…

Oh Maker, she thought.

What have I done?!

Shame washed over her.

How dare she!

She…she was such a fool.

"Dee," she heard Reaper say, she could hear the concern in his voice.

"I…I should not have done that," she said, her voice more confused than frightened.

Why?

Why did I do that?

She shook her head.

She was so stupid!

"I should not have done that," she repeated, her voice harder, colder.

"I'm sorry," Reaper said weakly, he sounded so hurt.

"It was not you," she said, trying to sooth any damage she might have caused.

"I…I…"

She was at a loss for words. They would not come.

She shook her head, trying to clear it.

Action would serve best now.

She nodded.

It would serve.

"We should head back," she said, "It is getting late.

"Alright," she heard him say, she could hear the pain in his voice, and it pained her too.

I'm sorry Reaper, she thought, I'm so sorry.

"Here," she heard him say, "let me guide you back."

"Thank you, ser," she said her voice cool and professional.

"Anytime sister," he said with equal coolness, the sound pained her.

He led her back without another word, which was more painful than being struck by a whip.

She shivered.

 _What have I done?_ She wondered.

 _Sweet Andraste forgive me!_

 _What have I done?!_


End file.
